


crash.

by phasmasarmor



Series: always, evermore, and on and on [1]
Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Attempted Murder, Enemies to Acquaintances, Parent Death, Past Child Abuse, Revenge, Wilderness Survival, based on a comic, hux is my oc and this is my hellscape
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-03
Updated: 2019-12-10
Packaged: 2020-10-06 01:13:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 28,088
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20498438
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phasmasarmor/pseuds/phasmasarmor
Summary: What do you get when you have a General, a Darth Vader wannabe, and a fourteen-year-old ward of the Order trying to survive after their shuttle crashes? Well. Bickering, mostly.





	1. just as useless

**Author's Note:**

> needless to say, this is based off of the age of resistance comic that came out.  
and to clarify the last tag: I've RPed a variation of Hux for a very long time and I'm writing fanfiction with him as the Hux because that's just what I wanna do. Enjoy.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A memory Hux would rather forget.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> child abuse tw for this chapter//

_ “I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to--” _

_ “Quiet.” Father’s voice is harsh, mean. Lea stills, but her mouth is still open from words she wanted to say, that died in her throat. The holopad’s screen flickers as water seeps into its circuits. Then the screen flickers black. _

_ “Considering you found her mother in the Senate, you’d suppose she’d learn to have at least some grace, Brendol.” Admiral Brooks sneers, then laughs. He’s always sneering at her, or laughing at her, or both. Lea knows better than to avert her gaze, but she can’t help it. Lea looks down at the screen and follows the water trails slide down onto the floor, _ drip, drip _ . _

_ She hears Father stand from the couch. Lea tenses. She needs to look up, or else-- _

_The back of Father’s hand whips across her face with a loud _crack _as skin meets skin. Tears well instantly in her eyes. She wants to sob, and it hurts to swallow it. It will hurt more if she does. _

_ “Clean it up, Lea.” _

_ Lea hesitates. In that hesitation, Father does it again. Her skin vibrates with pain and this time, she is not so lucky as to remember to swallow the cry. Father’s knuckles hit her jaw just right, and she falls to the floor. _

_ “Get up, Lea!” _


	2. you won't be cold for long

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hux wakes following his shuttle's crash on Aothea to discover Vierri, a ward of the First Order, is missing from the wreckage.

“Hux! Get up!”

Hux opens his eyes. Everything is blurred, darker than it should be. He groans softly. Then someone is pulling him up, hard, by his arm. On his feet, he stumbles, but that someone has a tight hold on him. His vision takes another moment to focus, but he sees Ren’s lightsaber brushing against his leg, Ren’s gloved hand around his middle, Ren’s boots against lush greenery. 

_ Greenery? _ They were just on a shuttle, just above -- Gods, he can’t think. “Where are we?” he manages. 

Ren doesn’t answer him, dragging him along another twenty yards before he helps him sit. And even then, he’s kneeling before him, removing his shawl, pressing it to his temple. 

“Did you save me?” Hux sounds drunk. Was he drinking? Where are they? 

“No,” Ren says a little too quickly. “I saved myself. You just happened to be nearby.” 

Hux shoves his hand away. There’s something wet on the shawl. _ Am I-- _

Ren forces Hux’s arm down and goes back to putting pressure on the side of his head. “Yes, you’re bleeding.”

“Where are we?” 

“The Hodara System. Aothea. Remember?” 

“No.” 

Ren grunts, but says nothing else. No clarification. No run-down on what happened. Of course not. What else can Hux expect from--

“Our engine failed,” he finally says. He lowers the shawl and looks back towards the burning ship. Hux follows his gaze. He sees the dead, men he’s known for years. He would be lying if he claimed to feel nothing at the sight. But war is war, and in war, one learns to move on.

“Comms are down, then,” Hux says. This time, he presses his hand to his temple as if that would help the growing headache. 

“Unfortunately.”

Hux sighs. He winces at the pain in his head, but he forces himself to stand, anyway. Ren follows suit and tucks his arm around Hux’s shoulders. “Stop it,” he says. “I can walk by myself.” 

“I’m not going to let you slow me down.” Ren states, and before he can interject again, he’s lifting Hux’s legs. 

“Put me _ down_!” 

Ren doesn’t answer him. Instead, he takes off sprinting, deeper into the forest. Hux is left with no other choice than to wrap his arms around Ren’s neck, and even then he must grip his tunic to keep from falling. 

“Vierri!” Ren’s voice startles him. So does the realization that the girl had been on board with them. Why would Snoke have agreed to it? She’s his ward. _Their _ward, too, technically, but Snoke keeps Vierri on his planet almost always. Why now, of all times, did she have to be with them? 

“She probably can’t understand you with that damned helmet,” Hux mutters. Ren doesn’t answer him. He keeps shouting. Should he join in? “How long ago were we shot down?” He asks instead. 

“Five minutes ago.”

“She can’t have gone far, then.” If she isn’t dead. 

“She isn’t dead,” Ren growls. Hux falls to the ground, hard, and he starts walking away. “Vierri!” 

“Ren!” Hux wants to grab something and throw it at him. He knows he’ll miss, or Ren will catch it. “You can’t leave me here.”

“I need to find her,” Ren calls over his shoulder. 

Hux moves from his back to his knees. Ren’s shawl still wet with blood from Maker knows who many of the passengers. Hux balls it into his fist and wills himself to stand up. “Did you…” Nausea hits him like a storm’s wave. “Did you bother to check the crash site for her?” 

“She isn’t dead!” Ren’s lightsaber is activated. The light makes Hux feel worse, so he looks down. Blood drops fall from his head and onto the leaves below him, _ drip, drip._ “I would have felt it.”

“Then we have to--”

“Go back? The suns are going down, Hux. I’m not going to let her spend the night alone.” Ren steps closer. Then after a moment of silence. “Don’t throw up.” 

“Trying not to,” Hux breathes, then he gags. He has a concussion. He knew that the moment he woke up. As long as he can keep up a conversation, as long as he can stay alert, he’s fine. There’s nothing to worry about. Ren tucks his arm beneath his legs, the other supporting his back.

“If you throw up on me, I will drop you again.”

“My hero,” Hux grunts. 

“Shut up,” Ren grunts back. 

They take off again, back towards the crash. Hux closes his eyes against the blurring world around him. Unfortunately for him, and Ren, his sprinting does nothing to help, and by the time he stops, he’s slamming his palm into his chest. _ Put me down put me down put me down. _Ren seems to get the message and quickly (and carefully) puts him down. Hux turns his head and instantaneously, whatever is in his stomach is emptied. 

He does _not_ feel any better.

“Are you alright?” Ren asks once he’s slumped down. The question surprises Hux. In a way, Kylo fucking Ren sounds genuinely concerned. 

“Peachy.” Hux coughs a few more times but offers a sardonic smile Ren’s way.

Ren nods and looks away. “I’ll look around the wreckage. Lay down. If you need anything…”

“Find her,” he said and waves his hand. “I’ll be fine.” 

Ren disappears, and Hux realizes he’s holding his shawl still. He drags it with him just far enough away from his own sick to be comfortable, and then he lays down. Was Vierri with them? Why? Aothea, Aothea… A kyber mine. They were visiting a kyber mine. Business… Starkiller Base. Something, something… 

_Maker_, his head feels close to splitting. Hux presses his face into the shawl and closes his eyes tightly. 

“Hux?” 

“Over here,” he mumbles into the shawl’s fabric.

Hux looks up and notices the wreckage. Things have been thrown, moved, revealing bodies of fallen officers. Ren comes over to him. “She isn’t among the dead.” He crouches beside him. Hux almost likes the company, the comfort. “How do you feel?” 

“Just grand, really.” 

“We need to find somewhere for the night. You need somewhere to lie down.” 

“I’m-”

“No, you aren’t _ just fine _.” Ren sighs. “We’ll find somewhere for you to rest. There’s likely going to be scavengers coming soon. I’ll look for Vierri until the suns go down, then I’ll come back to you.”

“Please tell me you aren’t going to run again,” Hux groans. 

Ren laughs - or at least it sounds something _like_ laughter. Hux isn’t so sure what sound he’s making in that damned helmet. “I won’t.” 

Ren helps him sit up and makes sure to grab his shawl, then is - once again - lifting him into his arms.

Ren takes him around the wreckage. He says something about finding a trail of blood, and about hoping for the best. Hux still isn’t so fond of him, but he admires him. Not many of his fellow officers would be keen on searching for a girl that shouldn’t have been with them in the first place. 

They follow the trail (or so Hux assumes; he’s had his eyes closed the whole time) deeper into the woods. Hux can still see the flames in the distance when Ren comes to a stop. 

“I can make a fire,” Hux says as Ren sets him down. This time, Ren puts the shawl on him properly. 

“As can I.” He pulls the hood up over Hux’s head. “I don’t want you to make one until I come back. We don’t know who resides in these woods, and you can’t defend yourself in your condition.”

“Yes, I can.”

“Your blaster, then. Where is it?” 

Hux looks down. His holster is empty and mostly broken to boot. The Quartermaster will not be pleased. 

“That’s what I thought. Stay here, Hux.” Ren stands and activates his saber. “No fires until I come back.”

Then he disappears again. Hux pulls the shawl closer to himself, and it smells like smoke and blood. He would hate the smell if he weren’t so accustomed to it already (a perk of war, he thinks). Hux listens - to the wind, to Ren’s footsteps retreating, to the hum of the saber getting softer and further away, to the crunch of leaves coming his way.

His eyes flick open. He’s afraid, his head hurts, he wants to throw up again, and someone is coming towards him. He stands up slowly and lifts a nearby branch as best he can.

Hux takes a few steps outside of their site. On a whim, he says, “Vierri?”

“Hux?” 

Hux stops. He lowers the hood, scanning his surroundings for anything. There’s Ren’s saber in the distance, crackling red, getting further and further away.

“Hux?” The voice - Vierri’s, definitely Vierri’s - calls again, louder, closer, and afraid. 

“Vierri?” Hux whirls around, which makes him feel just a tad dizzier. “Where are you?” 

Twigs snap and leafs crunch and someone is running at him. In a whirlwind of dark robes and auburn hair, Vierri is holding his middle and sobbing into his chest. Her grip is strong for someone so young, or perhaps he has more than just a concussion to worry about. Then he sees the blood in her hair and the thin coating of it down her cheek. 

“We thought we lost you,” Hux breathes out jaggedly as he wraps his arms around her. 

“You were dead, and Master Ren was dead, and--” she sobs harder. “I didn’t… didn’t know what to--” 

Hux hushes her. Vierri looks up at him. She has a cut on her cheek, and her hair is matted and bloodied. He combs through her hair with his fingers until he can find the source of the bleeding. “Come on,” he says. “We need to sit down.” 

“I don’t -- I just ran from -- everyone’s dead, and--” 

“Not everyone,” he reminds her gently. “Master Ren said if he didn’t find you by sundown, he would come back to me.” 

“Why can’t we go after him?” She sounds tired. She just wants Ren. Hux hates that he now understands the feeling. He’s the only one with a weapon, after all. 

Hux looks in the direction Ren went. Nothing. “It’s simply not a good idea. Not until I look you over.” 

Hux leads her back to where Ren told him to stay. The suns’ light is almost gone, which strangely brings him comfort. Ren would be on his way back, and with any luck, he’d have a plan on how to get them out of here. So far, it didn’t seem like the local government knew or cared about the First Order shuttle that crashed in the middle of their beloved forest. Or the flames that were burning it. That's what they get for doing business with an unaligned planet. 

“I know how to build a fire,” Vierri says as Hux drapes his greatcoat over her shoulders. 

“As do I,” he replies. “But we have to wait until Ren returns.” 

“But I’m cold.” 

“As am I. We still have to wait for him.” 

Vierri frowns, furrows her brows. It’s like looking in a mirror, so much so that it gives Hux pause. But he smiles patiently, no matter how much he loathes looking at the girl. She’s just a scared child in a terrible situation. He is a scared adult in a terrible situation. As is war. 

“I’m sorry, Vierri," he says, trying to keep himself calm and collected. What good would it do to explode on the girl? "I’m cold too. But just this once, I’m going to listen to Ren.” 

Vierri allows him to search for and assess all of her wounds, which is a cut on her head, bruised ribs, and sprained ankle. There isn’t much he can do about them at the moment, save for wrapping up her ankle with part of the shawl. As for her cut and her ribs, he’d make sure she was taken to medbay first thing. Once he’s finished up, he settles down beside her. Vierri leans her head against his shoulder and closes her eyes. It isn’t long until she’s fast asleep, slumped against his side (again, incredibly painful) and breathing light, shallow breaths. Hux feels his eyes start to close, too, but just in time, Ren is shouting for him. He’s upset, by the sound of it. 

“We’re here!” Hux shouts back. 

“We?” Ren appears between two trees. Hux watches as his shoulders lose their tenseness, hears the relieved sigh he heaves. “Where did you… where did you find her?”

“Here.” Hux motions vaguely with his hand. “I didn’t go very far.” 

Ren sits beside them. He’s gentle, scarily so, with looking over Vierri. When he is satisfied that she isn’t gravely injured, he kneels before Hux, takes his face in his hands to study his eyes. “How do you feel?”

“Dizzy,” Hux replies. He tries to squirm out of his hold. “Stop doing that, Ren. I’m alright.” 

“Have you thrown up again?” Ren asks. He only moves his hands to move Vierri off of Hux’s shoulder, down onto the log. 

“No.” Hux looks down at Vierri, then back up at Ren. “Take off your helmet.”

“I’m fine.” 

“Don’t be upset if I do not take your word for it.” 

Ren stares at him for a moment. Then, he slowly reaches up and presses. The mouthpiece of his helmet juts out, and then he’s lifting it off his head. Kylo’s lip is split, there’s a cut on his temple. Strands of his hair are wet, stuck together by blood. It’s Hux’s turn to hold Ren’s face, study the eyes so dark it’s hard to see when the pupil ends and the iris begins. 

“No concussion,” Hux mutters. “You’re still bleeding, though.” 

Ren grunts. “I know.” 

“Stop grunting.”

Ren grunts again, purely out of spite, and pushes Hux’s hands away. “Do you want a fire or not?”

Ren ignites a low fire, which he insists is low on purpose. Something about wanting to keep any scavengers that may come for the ship away from them. He’s also sitting below Hux, off the log, but close enough to share his warmth. And he’s scowling. Always scowling. 

“Why was Vierri with us?” Hux asks finally. “I can’t remember.” 

“You won’t for a while,” Ren says, voice low and monotone. “Supreme Leader wanted her to join us on a diplomatic mission.” 

“He’s lucky she is not dead.” Hux hesitates. Is she still alive? He hasn’t checked in a while, and--

“She’s still alive. Stop worrying.” 

Hux scowls at him. “Stay out of my head.” 

“If you did not think so loudly, I would.” Ren sniffs. Hux pulls the shawl closer to himself. This damned planet is too fucking cold. Maybe they could use as target practice for Starkiller Base. “We’ll find some way to call Control. You won’t be cold for long, General.” 

Hux wants to kick him, but he’s too tired. He wants to argue with him, but he’s too tired for that too. So Hux grunts and leans his head against the tree. Hux closes his eyes.


	3. unjust punishments

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another memory Hux would much rather forget.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Implied Parent death, implied death of fetus (?) tw//
> 
> He has a lot of memories he really wishes he didn't have. That's it. That's the series.

_ "Lea," Mummy whispers. She holds a finger to her mouth. Lea knows that means to be quiet and keep your voice down. Something important is happening! What it is, though, she doesn't know. _

_ "Does Daddy have guests over?" Lea whisper-yells back. She always had to be quiet when Daddy had friends over. They would drink pretty drinks and talk loudly while she and Mummy sat pretty or made them snacks. Lea didn't like those nights. Lea liked the nights best when she could be as loud as she wanted and she and Daddy AND Mummy shared snacks and they would cuddle until they were all asleep. _

_ Mummy shakes her head but again urges her to be quiet. Mummy leads her, tip-toeing, into her bedroom, into the closet. Something's wrong. Mummy doesn't look right, she can tell so much in the dark. Mummy isn't smiling. Lea wraps her arm around her. "It's okay," she whispers into Mummy's tummy. Baby brother needs to hear it, too. Daddy told Lea that babies feel whatever Mummy's feel, so they both have to be kept happy. _

_ The door to the bedroom creaks open, and Mummy whimpers. Lea tightens her arms around her and whispers it again to baby brother. "It's okay, it's okay, it's okay." Why isn't Mummy happy? Who are they hiding from? Someone's coming towards the closet. It sounds like Daddy. Are they playing a game? Mummy would like a game, Lea thinks. But if it were Daddy, Mummy wouldn't be so scared. She's shaking. Baby Brother is shaking because he must be scared too. Lea knows she's supposed to be brave for the three of them, but she isn't sure she can be. She holds Mummy tighter and tighter and closes her eyes tighter as the door opens. Mummy gasps and grabs Lea by the back of her dress. Mummy shields her from the light and the man in the door. _

_ "Leora." Who is it? Lea doesn't know the voice. It's not Daddy's, and it's not Grandfather. "Don't think to make this harder than it needs to be. Bring her along, now." _

_ "Like hell," Mummy hisses. She's holding Lea's arm too tight. It hurts. The man grabs Mummy's arm too hard, too tight, and pulls her back into Lea's bedroom. Lea stumbles behind her and finally, she looks up at the man. He looks like Daddy, but the face is wrong. Daddy's eyes are green, like hers, and he has red hair. The man's eyes are brown and his hair is brown, and his eyebrows are connected in a bushy caterpillar. But he has Daddy's smile and Daddy's freckles. _

_ "There she is!" The man says. He grabs Mummy's hand and yanks it off of Lea's arm, and it hurts more. Then he's sitting on his knees in front of her, one hand still gripping Mummy and the other now gripping Lea's wrist. "Hello, little Lea." His breath smells bad, like Daddy's does when he wakes up. Lea scrunches her nose to try and keep it away, but the man doesn't laugh like Daddy when she does it. _

_ "I don't know you," Lea says quietly, politely, as she'd been taught. Strangers are bad. But he knows Mummy's name and my name. How strange is he? _

_ "No, but I know you." The man looks back at Mummy. "Lea, little darling, can you tell me what happens to bad girls?" _

_ "They go to timeout?" Lea knows all about timeout. Lea's gone to timeout many times for not listening and throwing fits and biting. She doesn't do any of that anymore, though. She's grown up, and four. Four-year-olds don't need to go to timeout. _

_ "Well, sometimes. But what does that mean, going to timeout?" He's playing with her hair, and Mummy tells him to stop. He doesn't listen to Mummy, though. He's going to be in big trouble with Daddy when he gets home. _

_ Lea pauses to watch Mummy. "It means you're in trouble." _

_ "Exactly! Yes, exactly. You're such a smart little girl," the man says and kisses her on the head. "Yes, it means you're in trouble. And timeout is a punishment." Mummy tries to pull away from him. The man has to turn away from Lea completely to get a better grip on her. He pulls her too hard she falls on her tummy. _

_ "Mummy," he continues, "has been a very bad girl." _

_ "So Mummy has to go to timeout?" The man had let go of her, but she's rooted to the spot. She's too scared to move. What if he puts her on the floor, too? It'll hurt. Mummy hurts. She's crying. She's shaking. She's holding her tummy with baby brother in it, so he must be crying and shaking too. _

_ "Mummy is way past timeout, Lea. Mummy has to die for what she's done." _

_ Die? What does that mean? _

_ The man has something in his hand. Lea had seen one of Daddy's friends with one just like that. Daddy told her it was dangerous, and she was never to touch it. The man lets go of Mummy and turns back to her. He presses the tip beneath her chin, and she lets out a cry. _

_ "And so do you." _


	4. an unwelcome reunion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hux, Ren, and Vierri encounter an old foe of Hux's.

Hux gasps sharply as he wakes, his hand gripping at his own throat. There's nothing there. The scar faded long ago. He feels Vierri sit up next to him, and Ren's up and lightsaber activated. Hux's breaths are ragged, sharp as he looks around him. The pink-and-purple-and-yellow dawn sky flickers in between the branches above them. 

Ren keeps the saber activated as he looks around them, too, just to be sure. Before he deactivates it, he asks, "Are you alright?"

"Yes," Hux says and clears his throat. Vierri still looks at him with big, worried eyes. He dislikes that look from anyone, but he hates it coming from her. "Just a bad dream." Bad dreams aren’t so bad. Even bad memories from a lifetime long-since passed. He’s tired of them and the anxious knot they leave in his stomach. 

Ren nods. The saber is back on his hip with no time lost. He gets up and straightens himself out. Leaves cling to his tunic, though, and Hux wants to smile at how ridiculous he looks.

"What happened in your dream?" Vierri asks. Her head tips to the side. Unruly red waves tip into her face and she just barely manages to push them back before she’s continuing. "You grabbed your neck. Were you--" 

"Vierri, that’s enough." Ren's voice is stern and heavy still from his sleep. Now that Hux has a good look at him, he sees the red marks on his cheek from where they pressed against his sleeves. Another ridiculous look on him, but he can’t imagine he looks much better.

Vierri bites at her lip and looks away from both of them. She’s an anxious little thing. Who wouldn’t be in her circumstance? Either way, Hux steals a look at Ren. He’ll pretend, for a moment, that Ren doesn’t look apologetic. 

"It was just a dream," Hux assures her kindly. He doesn’t like the way his own voice sounds, though. It sounds so condescending, patronizing when he tries to speak to the girl. But it’s better than purposefully being so, isn’t it? "Thank you for your concern, Vierri." 

Vierri nods but doesn’t say anything more. Instead, she takes to pulling her fingers through her hair and staring at the forest floor. _ Teenagers._

Ren sighs. "We need to move on. Someone else is in these woods, and I do not care to meet them." He comes and pulls Vierri up from the log first, and then Hux. Hux, for once, appreciates the assistance, though part of him still wishes to rip his hands off for touching him again. 

"You're welcome," Ren mutters, hopefully not in response to the hand-cutting-off thing. That would be rather embarrassing, and Hux may genuinely feel bad for that thought already. It wouldn’t be the first time, however, the Hux had pictured something rather bad happening to Ren, and Ren being in his thoughts for it. That did not do their so-called companionship any favors. 

Ren takes the lead, with Vierri and Hux just behind him. Vierri holds onto Hux's arm, despite both of them not having the very best balance. Within the first ten minutes of traversing the forest’s many perils of unseen branches, Ren gets tired of having to stop for them to catch up. He gets in between them and lets them both use him for support. Hux does wonder, though, why didn't Ren just abandon him? This would be much easier with just him and Vierri. That, and he is constantly complaining about Hux's company. It would be quite the opportune way to rid himself of his co-commander.

Not that Hux is angry to still be alive. Now that he’s awake and almost fully aware of his surroundings, Hux finds himself almost entranced by them. The dawn sky is still a gradient of too-bright colors that filters through silver leaves when the wind blows. It’s that nice wind, too, that’s cool but not biting. Hux quite likes the feeling of wind on his face. How long had it been since the last time he’d felt it? Planet-side trips had become scarce, and then he didn’t wager he’d ever stayed out in the open long enough to truly feel the wind in a very, very long time. And what about the rain? It wasn’t raining (yet), but he can’t remember the last time he’d gotten caught in a truly-treacherous thunderstorm. 

But then Ren has to go and interrupt his reflections, as always, with news Hux is none too pleased to hear. "There are officers in the area," Ren drops his voice low enough for only him to hear, “And I’m not sure for what side they fight.” Hux peers around him to see Vierri, who keeps looking ahead of them and not where her feet are. He’s not sure whether to think she’d care one way or another if Ren said there was trouble. Ren was trouble, the bad kind of trouble. She would be wise to keep behind him if it came down to it. Hux doesn’t think that’s such a bad idea, either. 

Hux whispers back, "Can't you read minds? Isn’t that one of your Grand Jedi powers?" He furrows his brows then wiggles the fingers of the hand that isn’t gripping Ren’s arm. He’s always showing them off. Reading minds of important leaders, of officers, of Hux in particular. One would think he could use that to determine if whoever it is that’s circling them is friend or foe. One would think this would be the perfect time to use it. But clearly, it can only be used when Ren feels like embarrassing someone. 

"I'm not a Jedi," Ren growls back. It sounds so stupid in that helmet, more white noise than a true growl. How anyone finds that damned thing intimidating is a fool. All it does for him is making him sound like a poor-quality holo, which is not something Hux finds petrifying. "The voices are overlapping. All I can gather is that they are searching for someone." 

"Is that all you're getting?" Hux asks. “That doesn’t do us much good, Ren.” Whoever these ‘officers’ are could be searching for a lost child or a runaway teenager. That didn’t mean anything for the three of them, or, at least, it doesn’t mean much. 

Ren turns his focus to Hux. He’s glaring beneath that helmet, Hux just knows it. When Kylo Ren glares, the muscles in his neck tense. Hard to see beneath his tunic, but if one really, truly tried... "It is _much _more than what you've figured out, you--" 

Something growls, a deep and throaty growl. Ren’s words die with it.

“Master Ren?” Vierri whispers so softly, it takes Hux a moment to realize she’d said anything at all. Slowly, very slowly, both of them turn and look toward the sound. Kylo Ren pushes himself in front of both the General and Vierri and activates his saber. The beast is taller than Ren while on fours and sports orange fur matted with mud, blood, and other substances Hux does not care to identify. He does not have a very good feeling about this.

“Stay behind me,” Ren commands. This is the second (and last!) time Hux will follow an order from Ren. He wants to run. Run back through the woods, to the wreckage, and die there, perhaps. That is what he would rather do than face whatever this beast is called. Instead, he swallows his fears and pushes them deep inside of himself, and he follows in Ren’s steps by pulling Vierri behind him. He may not have a weapon, but he has... a branch he found! 

Kylo Ren doesn’t approach the beast, but he takes on an offensive position: feet shoulder-width apart, one hand holding the lightsaber out in front of him and the other stretched back. _ As if that will keep us safe. _ Then Hux looks back down at the branch he’s holding. He has to reevaluate his thinking into something more along the lines of 'at least he's trying'. At least Ren is trying to keep him alive. At least Ren is trying to also not die a horrible, painful death at the hands (claws?) of whatever this thing is. 

Then another snarl from behind them. Hux whirls around and shoves Vierri behind him. Another of the beasts looms overhead, taller than the first, with jet-black fur and deep red gashes in its side. That wound doesn’t seem to be stopping it from the hunt. On the contrary, it seems to make it more driven to get its prey. 

“What are you doing?” Kylo growls over his shoulder. 

“Good question," Hux admits.

“You have a stick.” 

“I have a stick.”

Kylo growls - white noise - and the beasts snarl back - thunder - and Hux has that feeling of ‘I would much rather not be here, actually’. He holds his stick-branch-whatever much like Ren holds his saber, tightly and with a willingness to do just as much damage. No one moves but the circling of the two beasts. Hux has to wonder what sort of a god would make these. What do they believe in on Aothea? Have they a pantheon of their own, or do they believe solely in the Maker, the Force, or just crazy coincidence? Hux is beholden to no gods of his own, but if he were, now would be a good time for a prayer or two. 

Blaster fire makes him jump, and the sound of someone barking orders. Hux pulls Vierri to the ground and he urges Ren to do the same. Instead, Ren is searching for the source. The growling, snarling from the beasts continues and they look ready to pounce. Instead, they clumsily whirl around and take off with footsteps like thunder. How they’d managed to sneak up on the three of them - Ren especially - is beyond him. The shots hit their large targets and Hux looks up just in time to see Stormtroopers take off after them. 

Hux sits up. Stormtroopers. Here. _ Rescue._ Now would be a good time to thank those hypothetical gods. But again, beholden to no gods, blah, blah, blah. He stands up - though now his ribs are screaming in pain - and pulls Vierri up with him. Ren still hasn’t deactivated his saber, not even when faced with someone he should view as a friend, a non-hostile. _ I don’t trust this. _

Hux growls out loud. Vierri looks up at him, brows furrowed and eyes wide. He does nothing to soothe her, though. What can be done? She’s afraid of everything. _ Get out of my head. They’re here to get us to safety. _

_ Or are they here to make sure you didn’t survive? _

Hux rolls his eyes. Ren doesn’t trust the First Order. He’s not sure he ever has. He certainly despises working with them on anything. It’s no surprise now he’d rather not see this as a good thing. It means Vierri (and Hux) can get treated for wounds and get proper rest; it means they can go back to their ship and figure out what in the hell happened to their shuttle. He holds some hope that the troopers are of the _Finalizer_ until he sees the blood-red Stormtrooper. The Cardinal, his Father’s personal guard. Which means Father won’t be far behind. _ Shit. _

_ Shit, indeed. _

Hux shoots him a glare this time. Vierri gives him another funny look, and again, he doesn’t answer it. _ Get out of my head, Ren. _

“There’s no need for your lightsaber, Master Ren,” Cardinal says. His voice is smooth, almost kind. Hux has always liked Cardinal. He prefers him drunk, though, and not pestering him about important things. Drunk Cardinal is the most tolerable. Sober Cardinal likes to try his hand at bossing others he has no business bossing about. “Our troopers will deal with the beasts. We mean you no harm.” 

Ren is silent and does not move to lower it. He keeps his stance, ready to pounce, and still in front of Hux and Vierri.

“Ren,” Hux urges. “Lower your weapon.” 

_ No._

“He won’t hurt us.” 

_It's not Cardinal we should worry about._

That gives Hux a moment of pause. He tries not to let his bewilderment cross his features. Ren has his reasons for why this conversation is private. Those reasons are: they are surrounded by Stormtroopers that do not answer directly to General _Vinh _Hux, but General _Brendol _Hux. In a moment, they could become his firing squad. Ren doesn’t want to risk Vierri’s life. 

“General Hux, your father is awaiting us with a shuttle back to the _ Absolution_. If you wouldn’t mind speaking some sense into Master Ren…?” The Cardinal tips his head slightly. There he goes, being annoying and frustrating and Hux wants to throttle him always. Maybe more than he wants to throttle Ren at any given moment. 

“I don’t take orders from you, CD-0922,” Hux says dryly. “Be that as it may,” he turns to Ren. “Vierri is hurt, Kylo. We need to go.” 

Ren is hesitant, but he loses some of his tensenesses and rigidly, he goes through the motions of standing upright, deactivating his saber, and turning to him and Vierri. “I’ll take her,” he says stiffly. Then he’s lifting her arm into his arms as if she is a doll. _ If she so much as gets a damned cut from them, Hux... _

_ She won’t. _ Why would Father try to have them killed? He’s the one rescuing them, no doubt on orders from the Supreme Leader. Father must have felt so special to receive orders directly from Snoke, to get a taste of true responsibility. Father had hated the news, that his son would head _ The Finalizer _and Snoke’s own fleet. It should have been his. Something about tenure, and the younger Hux needing to learn his place. Hux remembered going to him that night and just being so pleased, not only with the news but how upset, angry Father was about it. A great big fuck_ you to_ balance the scales of the galaxy. 

The Cardinal leads them and the troops of _The_ _Absolution_ through the forest, back past the wreckage where Troopers and officers work to recover the dead and important, top-secret whatever they possibly could have had onboard. He isn’t looking forward to it, contacting the families of the dead. Some Generals would rather have one of their lieutenants did it, but Hux felt it was his responsibility. He was their leader, after all. He leads, they follow, and sometimes, they die for it. This was one of the more unfortunate scenarios, an accident they couldn’t have prepped for. And if Ren hadn’t been aboard, he would have been dead, too. 

Hux weighs it, the pros and cons of thanking him. Ren wasn’t one for showy gestures, and Hux wasn’t one for giving them. Then again, Ren saved his life. A gift? What does someone like Ren want? He cannot gift him power, or the ability to find Skywalker or a lightsaber that doesn’t look like it’s two minutes away from catching fire. It’s not like Ren drinks, either. That was often Hux’s go-to present: a nice bottle of Coruscant Black. But Force-users can’t (or won’t) drink, so that’s clearly out the window. Even if he did thank him, would he owe him more than that? Hux doesn’t do life debts. They’re tricky beasts and nearly impossible to pay off. Ren could very well ask for one as repayment. A life for a life. Which would mean Hux having to find a way to save his hide in turn, and he does not think that will be an easy thing. 

This debate comes to an end as Hux takes in the shuttle. A grand thing, even for a First Order vessel, bigger than it ought to be. Father brought his special one, then, just for him. Father stands awaiting them, his greatcoat over his shoulders and his hat so delicately in place. He looks too perfect, too clean. Maybe that’s just because of how awful, unclean, and unkempt Hux feels. Ren carries Vierri past him, straight on into the ship. father ignores them both and keeps his eyes fixed on Hux. 

“General Hux,” Father says. There’s no smile, no relief, on his features. 

“General Hux,” Hux replies. He stands just barely out of reach. He wants to go after Ren and Vierri and nap until they reach _ The Absolution or__ The Finalizer,_ but this is protocol. 

Father takes a moment to look him over before doing something rather peculiar: he hugs him. It’s tight and makes his ribs ache more (something is wrong) but it’s... warm and makes Hux very aware of how disgustingly dirty he feels. Nonetheless, hugs are rare so Hux hugs him back just as tightly. 

“I’m happy you’re alright, my son,” Father says and he squeezes tighter. What had Ren said before? Cardinal isn't the one _we_ should worry about? “But you need a shower.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it's bastard time.


	5. under the guise of hospitality

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hux is subject to his father's hospitality.

The three of them enter the hangar and Ren takes Vierri and beelines for medbay. When Hux makes his attempt to follow behind, Father catches his arm.

“Where are you going?” Father asks, incredulously. His graying brows are knitted together like clouds above the blue sea of his eyes. That’s one thing Hux hadn’t inherited from him to most everyone’s surprise. Hux’s green eyes are a Talii trait and he likes to think they’re one of his best features.

Hux quirks his own brow, too. “Medbay. Unless that isn’t allowed.”

Father tightens his grip on his arm. “I’ll take care of you. I told you: you ought to shower first. Change. And then we will make sure you are looked over professionally.” Hux nods, and Father leads him past medbay.

The corridors are just like any other ship he’s been on: gray and black with bright light panels, labyrinthian in their design, with no single path to any one place. If this were the _Finalizer_, Hux would only have to go left from the hangar, turn right at the third stop, up a lift, and then his quarters are the second door on the right. On the _Absolution_, Father leads him right out of the hangar, takes a left at the first intersection, another left after two separate intersections, and then into a lift. The lift is smaller than the ones on his ship, he notes. It’s cramped, too small and therefore he is too close to Father, too close to Cardinal and stuck between the two. He does _not_ like being stuck. It’s making his chest hurt, and he feels as if he’s going to suffocate if he’s not let out soon. He hates this lift and breathing in Cardinal and Father’s ridiculously expensive aftershave (that is absolutely against precious regulation). Hux doesn’t shave, he doesn’t need to, but if he did, he wouldn’t go for something so pungent.

The desire to strangle one or both of them is rising to a breaking point when finally, the doors open and they file into the hall. He must sigh too loudly in relief because Father turns to him with an expression that could be read as indignation.

“Are you quite alright, Vinh?” Father frowns and starts to reach out towards him. Hux backs away.

Hux nods. “Yes, thank you.”

Father is satisfied enough to not press it and leads him along. Though Hux does find it rather curious. Father had once inquired about profusely about a cough he’d had one afternoon. Hux hadn’t been a sickly child, so it hadn’t made much sense. But if Father is letting it go, then so be it.

He is lead down two doors down from the lift. It’s a tight corridor, but not tight enough to justify Cardinal standing directly behind him. If Hux hesitates even slightly, he can only imagine that the stormtrooper will fall into him. While he considers whether it is worth the pain it will no doubt bring, Hux almost fails to stop a good distance from Father, who has stopped in front of a door.

“You seem distracted,” Father says, raising his hand to the scanner. It beeps once in confirmation and flashes a pale green in welcome before the doors slide open.

Hux shakes his head and says, “I find myself rather tired.” That isn’t far from the truth. Sleeping in the woods proves continuously to be uncomfortable and unpleasant. Each moment that passes, he feels the weight of sleep pressing down his shoulders and begging him to let his eyes shut.

Father nods. “You may sleep later, my darling. Soon.” Father motions him along inside. Like the rest of this ship, the room they enter is much like Hux’s: it’s an entryway of sorts with two doors leading to the refresher and bedroom, respectively. The entryway itself is home to a gray loveseat and black desk, where the docking station for Father’s holopad sits. In Hux’s quarters, he has a blue couch; against regulation, but that is all they had He misses that stupid, ugly blue couch fiercely now.

“The refresher is there,” Father says, pointing unhelpfully.

“I’m aware,” Hux replies stiffly. He starts to move toward the door, only to be stopped when Father says something to the Cardinal and a too-rough hand grabs him by the wrist. Cardinal says nothing as Hux glares up at that emotionless helmet.

Hux has to bite his tongue when Father asks him, “What do you say when people help you, Vinh? I did not have to bring you up here.”

_I did not ask to be brought up here. I demand to go to medbay and get looked over. I demand to contact my ship and go _home_. _Hux swallows hard, and the words go back into his throat. “Thank you, Father,” he says instead, but certainly through gritted teeth. Hux is still glaring up at Cardinal, thinking about how he could break that wrist if he ever touches him without his permission again.

“That’s enough, Cardinal,” Father says, pleased with himself. Cardinal lets go and takes a step back. It takes a lot of restraint not rub at his wrist, but Hux refuses to give Father more satisfaction. He has already seen him so weak today. Without another word, Hux enters the refresher.

He hadn’t realized he was still wearing Ren’s shawl until he catches a glimpse of himself in the mirror above the sink. There’s dried blood down his cheek from the cut on his temple and even more in his hair. On top of that, a dark bruise has formed beneath his eye and more superficial scrapes and cuts that litter his face. It’s fantastic to know he looks as awful as he feels.

Hux takes hold of the shawl and lifts it over his head. Then he stops. With it gone, he feels the cold of the refresher and the wait of reality crashing down onto him. He could have died yesterday. Kylo Ren saved his life. Father saved them all. But if Ren had decided against joining him, he would be one of the dead. Hux’s body would be among the shuttle’s crew, and Father would be receiving the news, his uniform, and condolences from the Supreme Leader. He leans against the sink and clutches the shawl tighter to himself. He wants to cry. His head hurts, and his stomach hurts, and he is just so angry, frustrated with the galaxy for putting him in a situation like this at all. Instead, he squeezes his eyes shut and breathes in, holds for three, and breathes out again because he is a General and Generals don’t weep. 

Hux soothes himself enough to hide Ren’s shawl beneath a towel on Father’s towel rack (Ren would be none too pleased if it got tossed out), and then Hux lets his uniform fall to the floor in a haphazard pile. In the mirror, he catches a glimpse of the rest of him. More bruises, more scrapes, more cuts cover his chest and bare arms. One is fresh, very fresh, wrapped around his wrist where Cardinal had grabbed him. He thinks of killing him and a myriad of methods present themselves. Blaster, vibroknife, jettisoning him from the airlock. Or, perhaps, Hux could choose one to use on Father instead; he did give the order, after all.

Hux turns to the shower and adjusts the water temperature from the icy stream that Father prefers. The steam rises and only then does he make an attempt to step in, only to stop when there are three sharp knocks at the door. 

“I’m a little busy,” he snaps. 

"That's nice," Cardinal replies. "I need to collect your uniform." He's grown too comfortable in his position, Hux thinks. He's still just a stormtrooper, shiny red armor or not. A stormtrooper that has no right speaking to Hux the way he does. Father had a hand in that, he doesn't doubt. 

“Then retrieve it,” Hux says and steps into the water. He closes the shower door just in time to hear the refresher’s door slide open with a quiet _hiss_. Cardinal’s footsteps enter and retreat just as quickly as they’d come, then the door shuts again.

Hux stands in the with his eyes shut, feeling the heat soak into his muscles and draw out the pain like venom from a snake bite. He prays that the pain will stay at bay until Father decides he’s free to sleep. Or contact the _Finalizer. _Whichever comes first.

Hux doesn’t like showers that take too long. He’s normally in and out within five minutes, hair washed, and body scrubbed in ice-cold water. Today, he takes it slow. Each scrape and bruise gently gone over with a washcloth no matter how painful. He is delicate with himself in the hot stream; it gives him time to rack his brain over Aothea. The forest comes to mind first; the beasts, the nightmare, Vierri, the crash site, Ren. Ren had saved his life twice in the span of twenty-four hours. He hates that he'll owe him _something_, and he can't quite decide it that is worse than death. At least a simple thank-you will be in order, he'd decided so much earlier. That's all he can give him at the moment.

The forest shifts to the shuttle. Shouting is all he remembers, at first, about something. Comms? Yes, that. Henderson was desperately trying to reach out about the engine's failure. Hux remembers falling, too. Where was the girl in all of this? Not far. The shuttle wasn't large and luxurious as his personal one is; they hadn't wanted to draw too much attention to themselves. He doesn't remember seeing her, though, or even Ren. He'll have to think on that harder. 

Then his thoughts turn to Vierri, then. Why was she with them? He remembers the holochamber, speaking to the Supreme Leader with Ren. He'd hated the proximity and Ren being close enough to touch if he extended his fingers enough. He remembers Ren arguing with the Supreme Leader and Hux staying silent. No point in arguing with him once he has made up his mind. He feared the repercussions. 

More knocking, and Cardinal urging him to hurry it along. "General Hux needs to speak with you," he adds quickly. 

Hux thinks up a futile prayer to all the gods in the galaxy that his pain stays gone and shuts the water off. There’s a neatly folded pile of clothing sitting on the sink’s edge he knows instantly is not his uniform. It's a set of dress clothes, a gray top and black trousers with crisp-white socks. No binder, though. Of _course _he doesn't get a replacement. How fucking delightful_. _Getting dressed proves to be a challenge, though. Pulling the top over his head strains his shoulder; pulling up his pants and trousers worsens the pain in his side. Hux curses softly to himself when he lowers himself to the ground to slip his boots on, then less softly when he pulls himself up once more to search for Ren's shawl. An involuntary sigh leaves him once he's slid it over his head. Comfort floods him, but it flutters away when he reenters his father's company.

Father's eyes scan him, and his lips curl when they land on the shawl. 

"What in the Maker's name are you wearing? You look... obscene." 

"It's Ren's," Hux says sternly, stiffly. There's a moment in which he considers tucking his arms over his chest, but he ignores it. Father will call him childish if he does so, rather than viewing it as a means to protect himself. 

"Not that ratty thing." Father steps closer and tugs at the hem of his shirt. "This. It shows too much." 

Hux tugs it back and promptly tucks it into his trousers. "I didn't pick it, Father. You can thank Cardinal for that." 

Father doesn't move away, and instead, he takes one more step forward. His hands are warm, fingers grazing Hux's face as he brushes back a strand of his hair. Hux lifts his chin, otherwise stiff, still. "I have a question for you, my darling boy. If that's no trouble."

Through a lump in his throat, Hux replies, "It's no trouble at all." It's quite a bit of trouble. In fact, this proximity sends a chill down his spine and knots his stomach. Then there is the matter of his injuries, the side that still burns and his head that throbs and his shoulder that feels plain wrong. Is it such too much trouble to let him go? Most likely. 

Father examines him closely and a slow smile appears on his lips. But not even the unease he feeds off of his son can sustain the brief satisfaction he portrays. His lips press into a thin line as his hand returns to his side. "You were on Aothea before the crash, weren't you?" 

"We were," Hux answers. "Is that all?" 

"Aothea has, in the past, aligned itself with those... Rebels. Low lives, all of them. Why would you sully yourself with it?" 

"I don't entirely recall." It's a lie, a lie he hopes Father will not recognize. The Aothea mission, as he very accurately recalls, had much to do with Starkiller Base. While it wasn't exactly a secret, the details were. Not just anyone could have intel on it. Father was _just anybody_, according to the Supreme Leader. "I --" 

"You must know that. I taught you each inhabited planet and its allegiance. Aothea may be undeclared, boy, but it was no friend of the Empire's." 

Hux's lip twitches. When he says nothing, Father continues. "You must give me something to work with, or I fear I will have to deem you uncooperative, and a traitor to the First Order." 

"You haven't the power," Hux says, but he regrets the words. Father tenses and Hux's eyes catch the brisk movement before he feels a tight grip on his wrist, tighter somehow than Cardinal’s had been. Hux has shown him too much fear already, so Hux buries it deeper down. "I'm bound by my duty, Father. One General to another, you must know how imperative duty is." 

For a moment, Father is silent, pale green eyes staring intently into Hux's as he waits for him to back down. When Father realizes that Hux will not give in to physical force, he relinquishes his arm. 

Hux continues, "Even then, my memory would not be perfect. I seem to have suffered quite a few injuries during my shuttle's unfortunate crash. I was hoping that I may make my way to medbay to be examined." Before Father answers, Hux adds, "If it's no trouble, Father."

Father's features tighten and through clenched teeth, he says, "Cardinal, see that my son is taken to medbay and examined. _Thoroughly_." Cardinal nods. 

"I can take myself, Father. I know where it is." 

“I’ve seen what painpacks do to you, my darling boy.” Father smiles, but there is nothing in his eyes that portrays _happiness, glee, comfort, _anything. He cups Hux’s cheek, his fingers digging into the back of his head until Hux is forced to look up into his eyes. "It would break my heart if anything were to happen to you. Now," Father says. "What do we say when someone takes our feelings into consideration?"

"Thank you, Father," Hux whispers.

Satisfied, Father releases his head, and Cardinal takes Hux's arm and ushers him away. He leads him down the corridor, down a lift, and a few turns. Hux has taken to mapping the way in his head. Something to busy his mind, something to help combat the anxiety that had spawned from his interaction with his father. Cardinal has tried several times to spark conversation, but each time, they had gone ignored. Hux does not like Cardinal. That was obvious, or at least he thought he made it obvious, but Cardinal never seemed to take the hint.

Finally, in medbay, Hux settles into a seat just inside the door and takes in the room. It smells heavily of disinfectant and the lights seem too bright against the white walls. But that is how every single medbay and Medcenter look and smell, or so he assumes.

Cardinal stands dutifully at his side and it’s sometime before the mousy human man on the other side of the desk realizes they’ve even arrived.

When he finally raises his gaze, the officer’s eyes widen. “General Hux!” The officer stands abruptly and, by the sound of it, bangs his knee in the process. Though, apart from a wince, he doesn’t acknowledge the pain. “I… I’ve been expecting you.”

“Clearly not, Gabaldon,” Cardinal says stiffly. “It took you five minutes to notice our arrival. Had this been life-threatening —”

“But it isn’t,” Hux hisses. He turns his attention back to the man, whose eyes have widened and fixated on the blaster Cardinal insisted on keeping in his grip. “I assume Officer Gabaldon has been briefed on the situation at hand by the other survivors. He would already know if my injuries were fatal.”

“I was, sir,” Gabaldon replies. “Master Ren and the girl have been treated. It simply surprised me when you were not with them.” He presses his already thin lips into a thinner line and his brown eyes flicker to Cardinal. “More so that you’ve… showered beforehand.”

“At the request of my father.” Hux offers him his best and a most polite smile, which Gabaldon appears to study with pinched brows.

Cardinal steps forward. “General Hux is here to be examined, Gabaldon. Not questioned. Let’s hurry this along.”

Gabaldon nods stiffly and moves around the desk, slipping his holopad into his hands. “My apologies, Cardinal, General?”

Upon standing, Hux realizes just how _tall_ Medical Officer Gabaldon is. He’s as thin as a flagpole with the height to match, standing a head over Hux himself. Hux’s lips curl slightly and hopes that little motion goes unnoticed by his companions. Thankfully, Gabaldon has turned his back and leads them into an examination room.

Hux settles onto the examination table shortly after their arrival into the too-small room. Gabaldon begins with the basics: heart rate, respiration, blood pressure. Weight? 65.7 kilograms. Height? 1.7 meters. “Very good,” Gabaldon says. “Low blood sugar and rapid heart rate, but…”

Hux doesn’t know what to say apart from repeating his ‘very good’ observation, ready for Gabaldon to get his hands off. When he asks if they’re through, Gabaldon just smiles apologetically.

“I’m going to check your ribs. A common injury during crashes, you understand.” Gabaldon reaches up the side of Hux’s shirt, but he stops him and turns to Cardinal.

“Step outside.”

Cardinal doesn’t move. “Strict orders, sir.”

“I’m asking nicely.”

“I didn’t hear a ‘please’. Did you, Officer Gabaldon?”

Gabaldon wisely doesn’t comment. He does stand straighter, though, and stiffens his shoulders. “My patient has asked you to leave. I’d ask you to do the same.”

“Take it up with his father.”

The medical officer’s thumb slides down his side in what’s meant to be an apologetic soothing, but only ends with Hux hissing and jerking away like a feral cat.

“Did that hurt?” Gabaldon asks, stupidly kindly. Cardinal snorts at that.

_No shit_. Hux exhales sharply and nods, words too hard to find in the pain radiating down his side.

Gabaldon apologizes but says that unfortunately, it isn’t the last of the pain. He lifts the back of his shirt this time, sending Ren’s shawl forward until Hux feels like it’s going to suffocate him. He breathes in the scent of blood and sweat and ruin until the officer is done examining his ribs.

“Bruised ribs,” Gabaldon mutters, another rather astute observation from Father’s finest. Hux has to remind himself that it is common practice for Medical Officers to talk to themselves. Cardinal shifts on his feet, already bored.

It takes almost half an hour to catalog each wound, scanning and prodding every bruise and scrape. Then it’s covering them with salves and scartape. Gabaldon has a gentle touch and always mutters an apology when Hux winces. He also has a very kind smile. Hux may request a transfer on Gabaldon’s request; the _Finalizer_’s medical crew could learn a number from him.

By the end of it, he’s covered in a salve that is trying to smell like cherries and scartape that is still fading to match his skin tone. Then Gabaldon sits beside him with a painpack in hand.

“Have you ever had one before?” he asks.

Hux nods. “A few times.” Battles, mostly. He was smart enough not to get hit most of the time, able to duck or dodge. And sometimes, he hadn’t been so lucky. Painpacks helped him through the worst of it until he was able to reach a bacta tank.

“So, you’re aware of the side effects? Nausea, vomiting, drowsiness?”

“Yes.”

“And you know not to operate any heavy machinery?”

Hux nods. Gabaldon smiles and says, “Good. This may pinch.”

The effects of the pack had taken effect near-instantly, and Cardinal had to half-carry him out of medbay. Cardinal’s a lot gentler than he had been back in Father’s quarters and asks multiple times if Hux wouldn’t just rather be carried. Each time he’s told no, despite his desire to give in. It’d be nice to get to sleep early, he thinks, as the drowsiness weighs down his eyelids. Though he cannot bear the thought of someone seeing him like that. Especially not Ren, and certainly not Cardinal.

They reenter Father’s corridor and just past his quarters, a few rooms down. “This is yours,” Cardinal says and raises his hand to the scanner. The door opens and he steps inside. “The one across is Master Ren’s, and the girl’s --”

“Vierri,” Hux murmurs.

“_Vierri_. Hers is next to his.” Cardinal stops. “Want me to take you to bed?”

“No,” Hux says and pulls away from him. “No, I want you… to leave.” Nausea hits him first. He finds the edge of the gray couch and lowers himself slowly.

“As you wish,” Cardinal replies, bows, and leaves.

As the door shuts, Hux slides down until he’s laying back. The shawl’s hood covers his eyes and he can just barely manages to tell the lights to dim before he’s falling asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> edited: 11/26/2019!


	6. we, not i

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The unlikely trio tries to contact their star destroyer.

Hux awakes to the sound of the door hissing open. His version is blurry, his head swims, and he is so very desperate to get back into his painpack-induced slumber. But when he finally looks up to see who’s presently entering his room, he almost expects to see Phasma, coming to scold him for being late. But instead, he sees Vierri, flanked by Ren, and his stomach drops. He remembers where he is. He does _not_ like remembering that he is far away from his ship, in Father’s clutches, with Ren and a child as his only company.

“Good morning, General,” Vierri says in her pleasant voice. Like himself and Ren, she dons a black dress shirt and black dress trousers, both of which are a size too big for her. Ren, on the other hand, is wearing dress clothes a size too small. At least Vierri has the decency to go with the Order’s dress regulations and has tucked her shirt into her trousers.

Hux grunts in response and buries his head back into the cushion. The ache in his side tells him he needs more sleep, or yet another painpack, or both. Anything for just a few more hours of blissful unawareness.

“No,” Ren says. “Sit up. We need to talk.” He comes to at least stand by the couch, and Hux’s skin prickles at the proximity.

“No,” Hux grumbles right back.

“Your father tried to kill us.”

Hux rolls over, stares. His eyes are still heavy and fight to close again. “What time is it?” he asks and, instead of surrendering, to his requests, sits up. The room around him swirls and he squeezes his eyes shut.

He should be sleeping.

Ren is standing there, expression blank and eyes trained dutifully onto Hux’s. Out of his robes, he’s still just as massive, tall and imposing. There’s no emotion behind his dark eyes, at least, nothing that matches the claim he’s just made. 

“0600 hours,” Vierri replies. She smiles her pleasant, too-innocent smile. Hux sees the bruises around her temple beneath the scartape, but at least it seems she’s slept some. Her orange hair is braided neatly and hangs over one shoulder. She reminds Hux of someone, someone he’s convinced only now exists as a distance memory, someone out of place on a star destroyer like this one. 

“Do you understand how ridiculous you sound?” Hux looks from her to Ren. “Do you have any shred of evidence to back it up?” he asks stiffly. “My father wouldn’t do anything like that. He’s a good man.”

“But he isn’t, is he?” Then, before Hux argues, he says, “My evidence exists, it simply isn’t physical.”

“What the hell do you mean, it isn’t _physical_?”

Ren shakes his head. “It’s complicated to explain.”

“Do you remember the crash?” Vierri asks before Ren can finish, her head tipping. She folds her arms tight around her chest and then finally, she takes a seat on the floor.

“Very little,” he admits. “Someone shouting about comms, but nothing more than that.” Hux rubs at his temple. “Dammit!” he exclaims as the scartape he’d, unfortunately, forgotten about until this very moment.

“You have scartape there,” Ren says rather unhelpfully and likely with a smug look on his face.

Vierri hisses, “Master Ren.” Ren raises a hand in an apology but says nothing. She still doesn’t look happy with him. She’s too young to be scolding him, Hux thinks, but he thanks her anyway.

“Evidence, Ren,” Hux finally says. “We were talking about evidence.”

“The comms went out first, then the engines.” Ren walks from the couch to the small, black desk on the other side. He trails his fingers along the wood, studies it, then takes the unclaimed holopad from its charger. “Why would an empty room need a holopad, anyway?”

“Every room has one on most star destroyers. They are backups, in case visitors cannot access the network, or more officers are assigned to the ship later on.”

Ren’s brows furrow, then he fidgets with it for a few times. He grips it tighter, tighter, the longer he types away at it. Finally, he growls, “What’s your sign-in? Mine isn’t working.”

“I’m not giving it to you.”

Ren then hands it out to him. “Then put it in.”

“Why?”

“Access to the network, like you said.”

Hux sighs and takes it. As he types at the holopad, he says, “I don’t have the same permissions here, you do realize. We’d be better off finding… my holopad.” The screen blinks blue, floods to life. Then his stomach drops. His holopad. Father didn’t have it on him last night. Had they found it? Was it still with the shuttle?

“Your holopad likely got destroyed in the crash, you do realize.” Ren mocks him, tone and all. Vierri is still glaring at him, but this time he does his utmost to ignore her. “Some permission is better than none. Hand it.”

“No.” Hux tightens his grip as if that would be enough to keep Ren from forcing it from his hands. Ren, as if to prove a point, extends his hand slightly and, with little struggle, it flies from Hux’s grip and lands easily into Ren’s. Ren smirks smugly, but it disappears when Vierri looks up at him and glares.

“Thank you, General.” Ren goes back to scrolling. “Would you have access to flight records?”

“As long as it is a _Finalizer_ shuttle, I should. Not ones for the _Absolution_.”  
“I don’t care about the _Absolution_.” Then he frowns. “Where would they be, files or…?”

Hux rakes a hand through his hair and settles back. “In my files, I imagine. There’s a folder there for shuttle manifests, cargo lists, and--”

“Okay,” Ren interrupts him and waves his hand in his direction. Ren is silent as he scrolls, hopefully, only through the files.

“How are you feeling, General Hux?” Vierri asks quietly. There’s a genuine concern in her eyes, focused mostly on the scartape on his temple.

“Like I was just in a shuttle crash,” he says as he puts his arm over his eyes. Hux’s head hurts more and more with each second. Blocking out the light, if he cannot block out the noise, will have to do for now.

“Oh. I could get you some water if you’d like. Or something from the wardroom?”

“There’s no need for that. I’ll be fine.” He doesn’t find himself very hungry, thinking of Father having access to his files, top-secret-and-need-to-know files. Not to mention any private conversations he’s had with anyone, of late. His stomach twists with familiar nausea.

“Are you sure? It’s no trouble, really, and I want--”

“It’s not in here,” Ren interrupts. Hux moves his arm from his eyes, squinting at him.

“What do you mean, it’s not in there?”

“It isn’t in there. The last shuttle manifest is Shuttle 601. The shuttle we took was--”

“Shuttle 870.” Hux furrows his brows. “Give it to me.”

Ren doesn’t object this time and hands it off again. Hux digs through files of all the shuttles that had departed and returned to the _Finalizer_ within the last three months. He hopes - prays again to gods he does not believe in, actually - that the file was just misnamed. Lieutenant Mitaka is bad about that, but he always makes sure he sends it to General Hux and most times, Captain Phasma.

“Does your father know your sign-in information?” Ren peers at the holopad, then finally sits beside him on the couch. The closeness sets Hux on edge, makes him want to run to the other side of the room. Instead, he shrinks back further and simply turns the screen for Ren to see it better.

“No,” he says. “There are ones from today, even, but not ours.” It had been there before the crash; he remembers getting the notification for it after they’d landed. _Shuttle 870 - Departure Date: Primeday, 1215hrs. 05/08/29 - the Finalizer to Aothea_. But it’s gone now, replaced by shuttles 590, 450, and 203. Aothea-bound. Searching for Master Ren, Vierri Linn, General Hux. 

Ren is silent, eyes flicking through the file names. Hux watches his face for a moment, though Ren is hard to read. Hux has mastered the art of reading people like him and Father. As a cadet, and even before he’d risen to the rank of General, he spent plenty of time learning his commanding officers. They were all subtle men and women, never giving anyone a hint at their feelings, but each one had a tell for every feeling. Admiral Sloane’s lip twitched when she was angry; General Coster would flex his left hand slowly; Father bites the inside of his cheek or his tongue. He looked out for these the most, to know when to avoid them. Ren… Ren is simply someone he prefers to avoid at all costs.

Hux looks down at the holopad and navigates to his messages. All opened, organized by date, priority, then sender.

Ren taps on the top message, one from Phasma.

_Captain A. Phasma_

_General V. Hux_

_06/08/29 | 20:05:16_

_General Hux,_

_We were expecting your shuttle hours ago. Where are you? Are you safe?_

_Captain Phasma_

Formal, like always, but Hux warms slightly reading it. She’s worried about him. Well, about all of them.

Hux goes to reply and the message disappears. He blinks a few times, then looks up at Ren. “Did you…?” Ren nods slowly.

Hux itches at his jaw and looks back down. “We need to get my holopad back.”

“I told you, it’s likely in a million pieces.” 

“No,” Hux shakes his head. “I put it away. My holopad - my personal holopad - acts as a… a… it’s important,” he says. Eloquently. As always. “It goes with the flight recorder. If anything happens to the shuttle, it’s safe.”

Ren’s brow cocks. “You only thought to mention it now? Who would have access to the flight recorder?”

“High-ranking First Order officers, other Generals, Admirals, and Captains, on a rare occasion. You have to have a certain code to…” he trails off and mutters a curse beneath his breath.

“To what, Hux?” Ren seems bigger to him. 

Hux ignores the pain this time as he rakes his hand over his face, irritates the scartape and bruises there. “You have to have a code to open the flight recorder. Another code to activate the holopad.”

“What does that mean?” Vierri’s eyes are wide. Her fear is heavy in the air, but in her eyes, there’s also a sense of curiosity there, adventure.

“That means,” Ren says, still staring at Hux. “Someone has access to Hux’s holopad. Someone that appears to be deleting messages and other important files.”

“Which is very, very bad.” Hux adds with a low groan. “Damn it.”

“Who would have the code? To either?”

“Cardinal, most likely. Phasma does, at least, so it’s safe to assume he does, as well.” He goes silent for a moment. “My father certainly does. As I said before, all… All Generals have the code.”

“So. Your father - or Cardinal - has your holopad, is reading your messages, and promptly deleting them.” Ren nods stiffly. “Pleasant.”

Vierri brings her knees up and rests her chin atop them. She’s silent, and Hux hates it. He hates that she’s here. Hates that she was dragged at all into joining them onto Aothea. For a moment, he even hates Supreme Leader Snoke for forcing her along. She should have stayed on the_ Finalizer_ with the rest of the Knights of Ren.

“We need to get my holopad back.” Hux sets the holopad on his lap. “We’ll need to contact the _Finalizer_ and Supreme Leader.”

“Good luck with that.” Ren stands.  
Hux frowns up at him. “What do you mean?”

“Your father tried to kill you, Hux, what makes you think he’s going to let you have access to his holochamber?”

“I don’t have to go through my father to get access. I’m a General just the same.”

“We should be assuming all communications are blocked, Hux.”

“We should,” Hux agrees, “but if my father tried to have me killed, we must exhaust all possible ways off of this ship, Ren. Unless you plan on just murdering everyone standing it our way to the hangar.” Hux regrets that comment the moment it leaves his mouth, but there’s no going back on it now. That is a weakness, weakness is cowardice, and he is not a coward.

“Fine,” Ren growls and rubs at his face, clearly irritating his own scartape on his temple and the cut on his lip. “Fine. You and Vierri will go together and contact the _Finalizer_.”

Hux folds his arms. He doesn’t mind Vierri accompanying him. Vierri does as she’s told when she’s told to do it and she’s small, inconspicuous enough to slip out of sight with more ease than Hux can at the moment. What trouble could she get into that he cannot get her out of, anyway? Well. Now that he thinks about it, there’s quite a lot of trouble she could get into, and very few ways for him to get her out. Hux asks, “And what about you? What will you be doing?”

“I’ll be retrieving your holopad,” Ren says as if Hux should have known, or at least guessed. “Finding whoever has it.”

“I’ll agree to it on one condition, Ren.”

Ren sighs deeply and rolls his eyes. “And what is your condition, General?”

“No casualties.”

Ren considers this a moment, but finally, he nods, sighs, “No casualties.”

###

Hux and Vierri left Ren to plan his day and walked together to the lift. This is the fun part, he thinks. Mapping out the _Absolution_. That had always been his favorite part of being sent to new ships as a junior officer. He’d spend half the night mapping out labyrinthian corridors, finding secret rooms that he would eventually appropriate to be little hideaways. Part of him wants to go off-mission, if it meant avoiding Father, and finding every little room here, hiding places, unused corridors. He knows, though, that isn’t an option, and he resigns himself to that fate if it means returning to his secret room on the _Finalizer. _That’s where he kept all the best liquor, and a few paper books he’d swindled some naïve shopkeeper out of on his last shore leave.

“Where did you get that scar?” Vierri asks, and Hux nearly jumps out of his skin. She’s been as silent as the grave up until now and he’d forgotten she was even with him. When he settles, Hux reaches up and runs his fingers along it. It starts just below the left side of his jaw and slants down towards the back of his neck. Not many noticed it, and fewer asked. Sometimes he’d forget it was there too until he’d catch a glimpse of himself in the mirror, a window. Then he’d remember, and then he would want a drink. He wants a drink now, and wonders if they have anything resembling a bar on this ship.

“I got it when I was very young,” he says, tersely.

“Oh.” Vierri bites at her lip. “How young?”

“Four years old.” The year the Empire fell. He doesn’t remember it, but sometimes, it’s all Father will talk about. The Empire falling, the Order rising from its ashes, etcetera, etcetera.

“Oh,” she says again. “But… _how _did you get it?”

Hux falls silent for a few minutes, focusing on the task of finding the bridge, at least. It wouldn’t surprise him if Father or Cardinal intercepted them before they did, or if they were denied access to the bridge, but he wanted - no, needed - to try. His ribs feel like they’re burning. Hux grits his teeth against the pain. Vierri, thankfully, doesn’t notice.

“It isn’t my favorite memory, Vierri.” And in truth, it wasn’t even a memory anymore. He doesn’t _remember_ most of it. It’s always in a dream, and some aspect of it is ever-changing. There’s nothing concrete, except his throat being opened. Sometimes, it’s a faceless man. Sometimes, it’s Father. Sometimes, it’s Farrar Kay, Mother’s true killer. Farrar Kay. Even just thinking his name makes his heart rise in his throat, the scar aching. “I do not want to talk about it.”

“Oh. I’m-- sorry, General, I didn’t… mean to upset you.” Vierri sounds like she’s about to cry. Hux hates it. He doesn’t like crying, be it himself or anyone near him. That’s why he likes his job, no one cries around him. Other than her. Not that it’s her fault. She’s young, just a child, and she’s emotional. It’s hard to be apathetic towards her.

“You didn’t know,” Hux says softly. “You don’t need to apologize. But just for future reference—” Hux stops. There, just down the hall and coming towards them, is Cardinal. There’s not a doubt in Hux’s mind that they’ve already been spotted, but he still takes her by the arm and drags her into a side corridor. He will come after them, take them to Father, something. But he must try to get some distance between them before it happens. As they hurry, though, the pain in his ribs, back, _everything_, radiates white-hot. He stumbles, grunts.

“General?” She tries to pull on him, make him stop, and they’re only halfway through the corridor now. Hux’s heart pounds in his ears. He doesn’t understand. He didn’t even run. He needs another painpack desperately, but he knows he will not get one. 

“I’m alright,” he mumbles and keeps pulling her along. Vierri still tries her hardest to slow him down, and she succeeds. Only because he feels hot bile rising in his throat. 

“Who is that man?” she asks. He’s leaning against the wall and runs his smooths his hand against the metal. “His armor is special, like Captain Phasma. Just red, and not… silver.” 

“Something like her,” is all he manages through a gag. Then, Hux clears his throat and says clearly, “Cardinal is my father’s lapdog. Keeps the Troopers in check here, as Phasma does. Protects my father, as she protects me. She has -- ugh…” Hux squeezes his eyes shut. “She’s just better… at her job.”

“It’s funny you say that,” Vierri muses as she presses the back of her hand to his forehead. “Master Ren says Phasma’s your lapdog.”

“Yes, well, he’s one to talk.” Hux grumbles. _Undignified, impolite_, a father-sounding voice whispers to him. But right now, most of his brainpower goes into soothing himself. After a few minutes of leaning against the cool wall, he’s ready to continue. Vierri makes him promise that he won’t walk faster than, well, a decent walking speed. He can manage that, Hux thinks. A decent walk through a decent star destroyer, surrounded by wholly indecent people. Except for Vierri. She’s the only exception.

Hux knows the difference between an officer’s footsteps and those of a stormtrooper’s. The footsteps behind them are, certainly, a stormtrooper. He doesn’t want to turn around, doesn’t want to know who’s following them, but part of him already knows. Cardinal certainly saw them. Cardinal is following them, either to let Father know where they’re off to, what they’re up to, or to lead them back to their rooms. Instead, they leave that too-long hallway only to almost run directly into Father himself.

“Father,” Hux says, clearly, loudly. Polite and dignified, like Father had drilled into his head during his Academy years. He steps just in front of Vierri instead of letting her stay at his side, and he prays that Father just assumes it is just him following protocol - Generals always stand in front of (and slightly to the side of) their ensigns, envoys, and so on. Vierri is neither, rank-less, though.

Father has a holopad - _his or mine? _\- in his gloved hands, which he brings up to his chest as if to keep it further from Hux. He’s wearing a light smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes when he says, “Vinh, you really ought to be resting.” He doesn’t look at or otherwise acknowledge Vierri. For that, he’s thankful. He looks behind him, though, at Cardinal and nods towards him. “Cardinal told me about your injuries. Your ribs, tss. You need to rest.”

“I thought I’d rest better on my ship, Father,” he says. His voice is level, calm. “The holochamber isn’t so far from here, is it?”

“We’ve been trying to contact the _Finalizer _for hours now.” A lie. His eyes are stern and fixed on Hux’s face, but he knows, _knows_, he’s lying. His neck is tense, jaw tight, and that is his tell. Father doesn’t even realize he’s doing it. “We’ve received no answer. But,” he offers them his own terrifyingly polite smile, “I will be absolutely sure to try again.”

“We appreciate the thought, Father.” _Ren and I are a we now._ And Vierri, he should think, but Vierri isn’t awful. “But I’d like to do it myself.”

Father’s smile falters. “I’ve got it under control, Vinh. You really must focus on resting until I can get you back safely.”

“Where is my holopad?” Hux asks. Father looks puzzled for a moment. His nose twitches, showing the authenticity of the emotion. “It should have been--”

“I know where it should have been, Vinh, this isn’t my first rescue.” Hux flinches. Father shakes his head. “It is being examined to determine the cause of the crash. I cannot tell you when the analysis will be completed. For now,” Father steps closer and places his hand on his shoulder and squeezes, tighter, and tighter. He stops when Hux breathes in sharply, painfully. “Where’s Ren skulked off to, I wonder?” 

“Master Ren is resting,” Vierri says. Her tone is cold, for once, and it sounds so strangely foreign to him. Then, after a look from Father, she adds a soft, “Sir.”

“Ah.” Father nods, and his smile returns ever-so-lightly. “Then you ought to join him. Cardinal,” Father calls. Cardinal steps out from just behind them and brushes his shoulder as he walks past. Once again, Hux thinks of Cardinal’s helmet becoming very acquainted with the wall. “See to it that my son and the girl return safely to their rooms.” Then he adds, “Carry them if you must.”

Cardinal leads them back to their quarters and this time, Vierri and Hux talk quietly about nothing in particular. What they would do upon their return to the _Finalizer_, stuff of the like. Vierri wants to see the Knights and ponders about any treats one of them - Hawke, he thinks she said - might have stolen for her. Hux says Phasma (Cardinal tenses at the mention of her) will likely drag him into the training center, and Vierri asks if she can join them. He tells her he’ll consider it, but she’s already smiling like he’s said yes.

They arrive back at their room, where they find Ren lounging across the couch with the holopad in his lap. It doesn't look like he's moved at all since they departed. 

“Let me guess: Daddy told you no?” 

“My father says he’s been attempting to contact the _Finalizer_ but has yet to receive an answer. Move your feet, please,” he mutters.

Ren obliges, to his surprise, without argument and Hux settles beside him. Vierri grabs the desk chair and drags it over. “So,” she asks as she finally settles down in her seat, “Master Ren, what did you accomplish while we were gone?” Her brow is cocked, and her arms crossed across her chest. 

Ren is more amused than shocked by Vierri’s sudden attitude, snorting a sort of laugh Hux couldn’t imagine him having. “I went searching through local files to see what I could get access to.”

“And?”

“Absolute fuck all.” Ren looks at Hux, scathing and irritated. “What good is your sign-in here if you can’t access anything?” Hux takes the holopad and fidgets with it for a moment himself. Different files have appeared, more shuttles taking off, other communications that he’s been courtesy copied into.

“I haven’t the same permissions here,” he reminds Ren. "No need to curse about it, Ren." He begins to search through the local datadrive, which is full of basic files, templates for files, forms every officer in the First Order would have access to. Some files are special to higher-ups, such as himself, but those aren’t ones he has the passwords to. Those are specific for each vessel, fleet. All of the ones he has, and needs to get back, are on his holopad.

The local datadrive contains basic files - templates, forms for basic officers and even some for higher-ups such as himself, upcoming plans all high-ranking officers have access to.

But nothing on Starkiller Base.

Everything about Starkiller Base, everything needed for it, top-secret communications regarding it, all were sitting, awaiting analysis on his holopad. There are security measures regarding access to those files and messages, but Hux is still uncomfortable with it being _analyzed_. There was something in the way Father said it that set his nerves on edge. Father doesn’t have the clearance and never would, but that never stopped him from trying to glean as much as he could from his son. So far, that was nothing at all, and Hux meant to keep it that way.

“What did you learn about your holopad?” Ren moves closer and Hux moves further away.

“My father told me it’s being analyzed. Protocol after a crash, you see. No matter if you have any survivors.”

“Oh, I’m sure. I would, if I were you, pray that it’s secure enough to withstand whatever they try. Snoke won’t be too pleased if anything is divulged about Starkiller.” Like Ren has to tell him that. Hux glares.

“What is your plan for finding it?”

Ren shrugs. “I plan on doing exactly what I always do to get what I want.”

“We agreed on no casualties.” Hux frowns.

“Did I say anything about _casualties_?” Ren glowers. Knowing Ren, though, Hux is absolutely right to assume.

“That’s your favorite method of getting what you want, isn’t it?”

“Perhaps it’s yours, Hux. But I’ve always preferred some light torture.”

Vierri’s lip curls. “Could you define _light torture_ for me?” 

Hux gives him a look of warning, and for once, Ren obliges it. But he does say, “It is a no casualty option, isn’t it?” He has a point, but Hux doesn’t let up on the look he’s giving him: brow furrowed, unamused, and very tired. He half-expects Ren to ignore it, but instead, Ren grunts in annoyance.

“Fine,” he says, “let me think.”

So Hux lets him think, and Vierri does the same. Vierri pads around the room and observes different impersonal items strewn about as Ren stares off, but eventually, she excuses herself (rather politely, might he add) to go have a lie-down. Hux considers taking a nap himself, or even just popping down to medbay again. Another painpack couldn’t hurt, and it’s only 0800 hours. If he went and got one now, he thinks, he could sleep well into the night, until tomorrow at least, and surely Ren will have done something by then.

Just as Hux reaches the doorway, Ren finally says, “I have a plan.”

Hux turns. Ren’s focused on him, but he’s still in the same position he’s been in for the past hour: head on the back of the couch, limbs sprawled out, but still not interfering with Hux’s designated couch cushion. Still, Hux can’t help but feel irritated. Lack of dignity, lack of any real action, lack of control of this.

Ren is calm, for once. Calm and tired, with dark eyes he keeps squeezing shut as he thinks. “I’d have to wait until the delta shift has--”

“No.” Hux says the word with a great amount of finality. Ren sits up straighter, brows furrowed, and the air around him shifts. He’s used to telling ensigns ‘no’, and them taking it. Ren, however, won’t, and that just means Hux has to try a bit harder with him. He lowers his voice. “Seeing as you’re the only one of us with a weapon, I don’t care for the idea of you sneaking off in the middle of the night with it.” Not only that, but that means more waiting. He’s growing impatient, antsy. Home is the only thing that sounds good anymore.

Ren looks at him, and it’s a look he’s seen and given many times before, the irritation of speaking to someone with no sense. “Then I will leave it with you.”

“No, Ren,” Hux says it again, and though he fears it’ll end poorly for him, he says it with a harshness, stern. “I don’t have any interest in touching that thing.” And he doesn’t. It’s unbalanced, broken, and he fears that anytime Ren activates, it’s going to explode. Instead, however, it’s a light nearby Hux’s head that explodes. Hux falls backward, back hitting the wall hard. Ren is standing, shoulders tense and fists balled at his side. Hux can’t move from the wall. His chest is tight, an invisible hand holding him around his ribs, and another invisible hand is starting to wrap around his throat. Ren starts to speak when the door hisses open and in steps Vierri. The invisible hands let him go and he collapses to the ground. It hurts terribly to breathe, but Hux still gasps for air when he hits the floor.

Vierri says something in such an angry tone, but Hux isn’t paying much attention until her hand is on his back and she’s murmuring sweetly, “Are you alright?”

Hux nods and looks up. Ren hasn’t moved, but he has relaxed with her presence. He knows better than to light Ren’s short fuse, but he speaks through gritted teeth, sternly, “Do not touch me again.” Ren is capable of worse. He knows that, knows he has no reservations about hurting those he finds annoying. But he would never do something so terrible to him in front of Vierri. He’s lucky she came when he did, and he’s lucky Ren will not try it again. He’s free, relatively, to retaliate.

Snoke will be made aware of it.

Ren nods stiffly, slowly, like a droid learning its functions. He sits back down on the couch, cold eyes still fixed on him. Vierri spends most of her time either scowling at Ren and making sure Hux is alright, that he isn’t hurt too badly, and he isn’t. His throat and back are sore, but he’ll be just fine. He just wants to go to bed now, put as much distance between Ren and himself that he can.

“I’m sorry,” Ren finally says. Hux looks up. His expression has softened into something that, if Hux didn’t know any better, he would assume it’s something like worry, genuine regret. Hux isn’t so sure with Ren, though. It’s likely just for Vierri’s benefit, he will do it again, and Hux will need to be wary of infuriating him further. “I shouldn’t have.”

“No, you shouldn’t have.” Hux manages. His voice isn’t as hoarse as he’d thought it would be at first. Ren tenses, though, and looks away. Vierri pads back to sit beside him, another cup of cold water from the refresher’s tap. She looks at Ren, brow cocked, as if urging him to say more.

Ren either reads it in her thoughts, or gets the hint, and adds, “The three of us are each other’s only allies here. Let’s try to keep it civil.”

Hux wants to remind him that _he_ was not the one that got hurt. But he nods. “I think I can manage that.” Hux clears his throat. 

“We’ll stay together,” Ren continues. “In this room, or one of the other two. With the first attempt on our lives, I cannot be sure there won’t be a second, and I would feel better being able to keep an eye on you both.”

Hux nods, sips his water. It would make sense, wouldn’t it? Safety in numbers, and all that. But it’s still three (two trained fighters and a child) against many.

He does not like their odds.

He does not like their odds at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> their odds aren't bad hux is just dramatic.


	7. a false front

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kylo ignores Hux, to no one's shock or surprise.

Hux fell asleep on the couch above him a little over an hour ago and Vierri holed herself up in the bedroom shortly after. Kylo lays in his strange, haphazard nest of blankets and pillows he and Vierri had brought over from their original rooms. It’s becoming harder and harder not to give up on his plan and resign himself to rest, his eyes desperate to stay shut tight against the rest of the galaxy for five minutes more, but Kylo knows it isn’t an option. He lifts his head. The lights are out, but the holopad’s light has turned Hux’s sleeping features blue. Kylo takes the holopad gently from his hands, and when Hux starts to stir, he murmurs, “It’s just me.” Hux mumbles something back but slips back into unconsciousness. 

Kylo had told Hux his plan. It was hardly his fault Hux didn’t agree to it, and it is a good plan. If the delta-shift here was anything like delta-shift on the _Finalizer,_ it would be much easier to sneak past them. Not as many people, and even then, they were too tired or bored to care about what anyone else was doing. He hopes it will continue to benefit him here.

Kylo tucks his shirt in, makes himself look presentable. Hux would approve of that, and that alone makes him want to untuck it, muss his hair up. The point of it, though, is to move about as unnoticed as possible. Kylo can do that, he decides, but he doesn’t want to. He does not want to play by Hux’s rules. He has his own ruleset that he could play by, but for Vierri’s sake, he begrudgingly continues about straightening himself out. When he’s sure everything is in order - to Hux’s standards - he starts to leave. 

_ Reminder: Hux is without a weapon. _

They’d spoken about it earlier, that, and it wasn’t as though they spoke of much more apart from curt ‘thank you’-s dictated by Vierri. Hux is still angry at him for the vice grip he had taken around his throat. Not that they spoke of much else, due to the ridiculous fact Hux is still pissed at him for choking him, and Vierri stopping either of them before they went in at each other. The idea of Hux touching his things, his lightsaber especially, but the idea of returning to them dead unsettles him more. So Kylo returns to Hux’s side and makes sure he’s deep asleep, careful not to make a sound as he crosses the room or draws the lightsaber from his belt. Kylo doesn’t expect he’ll need it, though. Hux is so insistent his father is just so good, but Kylo knows it’s all a lie Hux is telling himself, telling Kylo and Vierri. Kylo knows otherwise from the time he’s spent looking inside Hux’s mind, seen the dreams that haunt him in the dead of night. Kylo pities him. His father -- Ben’s father — wasn’t a good father by any stretch of the imagination, but he never once raised a hand to Ben. Kylo doesn’t like to think about what he has seen Hux the Older do to his son and doesn’t like to feel sorry for Hux even more.

Kylo thinks about Brendol Hux as he leaves the quarters. General Brendol Hux, according to the Archives, has been an officer since the Empire, has lots of practice on the battlefield but hasn’t seen one in decades. He also ran the Stormtrooper program, once upon a time, and had a hand in training more officers than Kylo could even give a number to. And his son is young, younger than every other General in the First Order Kylo finds himself lucky, with him. Brendol Hux strikes him as the sort of man to run his mouth, then run when it got him into trouble. At least Vinh Hux dares to see his actions through to their consequences. 

_ Reminder: Hux is still an annoyance. Less so than his father. At least Hux hasn’t tried to murder him. _

_ Follow-up reminder: Hux has not tried to murder him yet_. 

Delta-shift on the bridge. It is silent, except for the shuffle of feet, clearing of one’s throat. No one says anything to him, no one recognizes his face. Had he worn his helmet, they would have; Everyone in the Order knows Snoke’s apprentice, but no one knew his face. Only the Knights, and Snoke, and Hux. 

As he leaves the bridge, Kylo passes by a door marked as Brendol Hux’s office. He hesitates just outside the door. What is stopping Kylo from, realistically, finding Brendol Hux and tearing him apart? Nothing. He could do it, feasibly. But Vierri and Hux would be at the mercy of those aboard the _Absolution_. 

_ Reminder: So would you. Reach your objective. Find the server terminal. Do it Hux’s way, for now. _

He’s tried many times since they’ve arrived on this blasted ship to reach out to Snoke, the Knights, anyone, only to find their places in his mind empty, cold. He searches for Hux, then, finding him still asleep in their room. Vierri, asleep in the bed. Kylo breathes slowly, relief, despite something just short of panic at the absence of his master filling his chest. At least he can monitor them. The others will come soon. He’s just tired, Kylo tells himself. 

_ Reminder: Haven’t slept in days. Need sleep, and soon. But own fear will do for now. _

Kylo finds peace in exploring his surroundings and from this, he’s learned a thing or two about star destroyers. For one, he knows each one contains somewhere around one thousand terminals. Though the bridge contains the majority of them, there are still some more scattered about in the lower levels, in the ship’s (they’re all identical, aren’t they?) poor excuse for a library, the hangars, and some even had them in each of the training decks. All these terminals are routed to a server terminal, or, as it is aptly nicknamed, a super terminal. The super terminal holds all the ship’s data, local and otherwise, and with luck, all the information he needs to prove the crash wasn’t a coincidence. That’s where, he assumes, all the data that Brendol Hux’s personnel have dug up from Hux’s holopad about the crash. Something, hopefully, about Brendol Hux’s involvement in it, too. 

Now that he thinks of it, though, Kylo can’t recall if he’s ever seen a server terminal before, but he assumes it will be large and bulky and black. Perhaps it’ll have its own too-large room where it sits churning out information all day in the dark, and perhaps a droid looks after it, or an obnoxious old man that can’t do much else but look after it. He wonders if it’s well-hidden, top security-clearance only, or if he could pick its location out of a passerby’s head.

And perhaps, in the lower levels it took Kylo nearly an hour to reach, it simply has a big sign that reads SERVER TERMINAL with authorized personnel only in smaller print beneath it, but just above the handscanner. Easy enough. He’s so often considered On this damnable ship, however, he gets a red light and the scanner informing him he doesn’t have the proper_ authorization._ He tries again, then a third, and at the sixth time of being denied, he growls, “Come on!” and kicks the door. He feels a rush of energy with his anger, a familiar burn deep in his belly that shoots through the rest of his body, and kicks it again, and again, and again until that heat is coursing through every muscle. His foot hurts by the time he’s done, but the pain is ignored. 

If he’d had his lightsaber, this wouldn’t be an issue. Much to Hux the Younger’s chagrin, Kylo would carve his way into the rooms he hadn’t been deemed authorized to enter. After many stern talking-to that Kylo ignored, Hux finally just gave him that authorization. He does not see that working here, however. 

Kylo kicks the door again as his muscles start to feel heavy with sleep. Harder, and harder, until his muscles are alive again with the electric feeling. Kylo’s foot hurts, but he’ll survive. It’s not broken, at the very least.

It doesn’t take long to discover that no, this door cannot be reasoned with, and yelling at it won’t work, either, so stop trying, Kylo Ren. He takes a closer look at the hand scanner and realizes it can, in fact, very much so be destroyed. He doesn’t reckon he would need his lightsaber for that, either. A solid punch could do the trick. But, from experience, simply breaking it doesn’t always work with high-security rooms. A server terminal’s scanner will likely have back-ups, fail-safes, something to keep the room secure. That’s the rational way of thinking about it, at least. It doesn’t mean Kylo doesn’t want to try. Kylo sits on the floor opposite the door and stares at it to think some more. 

“What are you doing down here?”

Kylo turns in the direction in which the voice came. There, not four yards away, is an elderly woman, hunching slightly (against Hux’s beloved protocol) and squinting despite her glasses. She does have her silver-white hair pulled back in a neat bun and a kind smile, like every grandmother in every holofilm Kylo has ever seen. Kylo sits in awkward silence for a moment. He doesn’t consider himself to have moral standards regarding lying or very many morals at all, but there is something wrong, unsettling, about lying to an old woman that isn’t presently angry with him. At least, she doesn’t seem angry with him yet.

“The door isn't accepting my handscan,” Kylo says plainly, but with purpose. The woman keeps staring at him, shuffling forward, but she laughs a rather witchy laugh. 

“That old thing hardly works anymore. It takes a gentle touch, you know.” Then she stops smiling. “What are you needing in there for, hm? And where’s your uniform? General Hux won’t be pleased if he sees you, you know, milling about without your uniform.”

“Being cleaned,” Kylo says. He has never needed to practice saying things with a confidence that makes it seem like he truly does belong. “I require a few externals for a mission.” 

“Oh, fancy that.” She smiles again, all pleasantly and sweetly like any old woman smile. “And what’s your name, love?”

“Admiral Solo.” Kylo regrets the name instantly, but she’s already tapping it into the holopad she carries. His lip twitches and he balls his hand into a fist. 

_ Reminder: Her death would be meaningless. _

_Further reminder: Hux’s way. No deaths. _

He forces himself to relax, even lets himself smile as pleasantly as he can stomach. 

“Admiral Solo,” she repeats back. “General Hux will not be pleased that scanner is busted again, now will he? He’s got enough on his plate with that son of is.” She shakes her head and clicks her tongue. “His son and his friends crashing on that planet. Terrible business. I heard Kylo Ren was with them, you know. Don’t want him running about this ship, no sir.” She blinks up at him just as she’s turning towards the scanner. “So sorry, dear,” she says. “Rambling again.”

“It’s fine,” Kylo says flatly. He must repeat his earlier reminder to keep the hot rage from rising in his stomach. No deaths, no deaths, _ no deaths_. 

“Who are you again?” 

Kylo holds back a frustrated growl. It’ll be over soon if he goes along with it, he tells himself, but that doesn’t placate his rage. Calmly, he tells her, “Admiral Solo. You were helping me get into the service room?”

“Oh! Right, right. Very sorry, Admiral Solo, so sorry.” Then she nods wisely and places a gentle hand on his arm. “My brain isn’t what she used to be, love.” She taps her temple as if to make a point.

“It’s fine,” Kylo says again, this time through gritted teeth. “If you wouldn’t mind, it is rather late.” Kylo sends his thoughts to Vierri, Hux. Both still sleeping, thank the Force. But for how much longer would they stay that way? He needs to be back, and soon.

“Right, right. Don’t you worry yourself; I’ll get you in there in a jiffy.” With that, she - _ fucking finally _\- turns and rests her hand on the scanner.

_ Server Terminal Access Granted: Signs, Adriana. _

The door hisses open. “There you are, dove. I’m sorry – Admiral Solo. Ooh, General Hux won’t be too happy if he hears I’ve been calling you lot pet names again.” 

Kylo tries to ignore the guilt as he waves his hand in front of her face and says clearly, “You will not remember this conversation. You will not remember me.” 

“I won’t remember this conversation. I will not remember you.” Adriana Signs sighs dreamily, and off she shuffles, past Kylo and further down the corridor. 

Once Kylo has slipped into the room, the door hisses shut and closes tightly behind him. He hadn’t been wrong about what a server terminal looks like, really. It is large, and black, and bulky, and sits in its rooms with thousands and thousands of wires connected to it. In the room with it is a cabinet labeled_ hard drives and externals _and a solitary path that leads directly to the terminal. Kylo walks the few steps it takes to the cabinet and he thanks the Force for the ample number of externals. He grabs two, just in case. 

The screen flicks to life before him, and each terminal’s name blinks a few times. Kylo taps one just to see what it does, and a list of officers appears. Again, he clicks one at random. _ Petty Officer Neace Redi _ \- _ Stored Files_. A light smile appears as he exits the terminal entirely. This may be easier than he anticipated. 

###

So, as it turns out, it is not as easy as Kylo had been anticipating. 

There are many, many terminals on the _Absolution _and it has taken him two hours to go through half of them. His head hurts, body screaming for sleep. Kylo swears for the tenth time that if this next terminal does not have Hux’s name listed, he will retreat upstairs and get some well-needed sleep. He clicks terminal 328, and the only name that displays is _General Brendol Hux_. He sighs deeply and lets his eyes slide shut just for a minute. Finally. 

There are more files than he thought there would be. Most people only save a few files per terminal and save the rest on an external so they can move about their workstations, but Brendol Hux has hundreds of files in a dozen different folders. His one blessing, Kylo thinks, is that he’s organized. Kylo goes through a few of the documents, skimming words. Most of them are about meetings past, or personal conversations regarding whatever old men talk to other old men about. Kylo’s skimming one rather boring message Brendol Hux sent to a man named Admiral Brooks - _didn’t Hux dream about him? _ \- when he sees it. 

_ Vinh will be on Aothea soon, according to a friend. I fear something will happen to him there. Wouldn’t that be unfortunate? _

Firstly, Kylo finds it rather hard to believe that Brendol Hux has any friends. Secondly, that mission shouldn’t have been common knowledge. The Aothea mission pertained to Starkiller Base, something very few officers were privy to, and while Brendol Hux may have some access to it, the mission was top-secret. Need-to-know. Only officers that are part of the _Finalizer _’s fleet were to know about it. Vinh Hux wouldn’t have spoken loosely about it to anyone. 

Kylo searches _Vinh _in the search bar. A fair number of saved communications highlight themselves, audio file transcripts, images including the name. All talking about Vinh. _Vinh’s ego… Vinh’s only talent… Vinh… Vinh… Vinh. _

Kylo quickly selects all the files that appear in the search and drags them to the external, but it asks for a password before it can transfer any of them. 

Kylo’s brows pinch together. Why hadn’t he thought of that before? He tries several passwords he knows for a fact some rather intelligent First Order officials have used previously: Password, 1234, Password1234. They don’t work, not that he’s very surprised, Brendol Hux is an intelligent man. So what else can he learn about him? Kylo opens a different tab and searches the Archives. That’s where he finds a page about Brendol Hux’s late wife. 

_ Leora Syl Hux_, the deceased senator’s page reads, _ was born to Sylas and Liana Talii of Coradonna. She studied among the Empire’s fine Academy but truly blossomed during her time in the Empire's Apprentice Legislature. She married Brendol Hux of Arkanis and she continued to serve the Imperial Senate after the birth of their first child. _

First child? Does Hux have a sibling? Hux has never mentioned it, in passing or in his thoughts. On top of that, why aren’t they calling him by his name? ‘Vinh’ is shorter than ‘first child’. 

Kylo scrolls down to read about what happened. Her murder, the death of their second child (oh, that explains it), the attempted murder of their first child. Never once do they call Hux anything but _the first child_, but they called the second child Adakias. Adakias Leor Hux. What a stupid name. 

Finally, at the very end of the page, her date of birth and death are displayed in a smaller font. 04/23/25BBY-04/22/04ABY, and there’s even something regarding _ Adakias _ Hux. 

Kylo enters 04/23/25BBY. Nothing. 

06/07/04ABY, which was supposedly Adakias’ due date. Nothing. 

On a whim, Kylo enters Hux’s birthdate. 10/23/00ABY (he’s seen official documents on Hux’s holopad). And nothing. 

Kylo’s jaw tightens and he balls his hand into a fist. The extra external drive he had grabbed shattered. _ Two attempts remaining_, the red text beneath the password box reads. 

04/22/04ABY. Leora’s death date. Morbid, but Kylo wouldn’t put it past him. 

A progress bar replaces the password box and small text Kylo must squint to read: _ 1/14 AUDIO FILES MOVED… PLEASE DO NOT DISCONNECT… 2hrs REMAINING. _

Two hours later, Kylo finally makes the trek back to their quarters. His head hurts, pounds behind his eyes. He plugs the external into their holopad. 0400 hours. Force-dammit. 

Hux will want to get up soon if he’s keeping his normal hours, which means a possible 0700 hours wake-up call. Kylo had three hours to get at least a little sleep, but his body will want to fight for more. He collapses into his nest of blankets and hears Hux stir on the couch from the sudden noise. 

“Just me,” Kylo says into a pillow. 

Hux mumbles something back, but they’re both drifting off before Kylo bothers to ask him what he said. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> kylo: would it make me feel better to beat up an old woman? absolutely not but i still Want To.


	8. some evidence or none

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kylo goes over a few things.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy (late) birthday, Amy! I love you to pieces.

Kylo awakes to nothing.

The lights are dimmed down to ten percent, and the only sound to be heard is the retreating footsteps just beyond the door. Kylo looks up to the couch, which holds only Kylo’s shawl and a blanket. Kylo pulls himself up and shuffles to the bedroom. He peers inside only to find that, much like Hux, Vierri appears to be missing, too. Kylo frowns and rubs at his face, ignoring the sting from the cut. 

Kylo closes his eyes and begins to delve into each ripple in the Force that’s presented itself to him. The Supreme Leader had taught him that the Force was like a pond, serene and calm, while every living thing was a pebble that birthed a ripple in its wake. Searching for others felt just like gliding across the water’s surface: easy, calming, without much weight on his mind. But as Kylo searches now for Hux and Vierri, there’s a tingling sensation that begins in the palms of his hands. He forces himself to continue despite it, and by the time he’s located Vierri, Kylo’s skin feels as if a current of electricity is coursing through his veins. 

Vierri and Hux sit side-by-side, away from the rest of the officers in the wardroom and drinking caf in silence. Her feedback provides only that Hux was grumpy and she wonders why he simply didn’t just sleep longer. Kylo pulls back before he can search for Hux’s ripple, though. The pain has rendered his arm numb, and even after he’s back in his own thoughts, his arm tingles for a while yet. 

Sleep still beckons to Kylo as he strips out of the dress uniform, and a small voice in his head begs him to drag himself back to his cot. _Just a few more hours_, it whispers. Kylo silences the voice when he steps into the icy water of the shower, then further when he thinks instead of what evidence he had gathered the night before, or, rather, how he’d gotten it. He’d felt rebellious, and though that word brings a sour taste to his mouth, it had felt _good_. The Supreme Leader would have tanned Kylo’s hide for disobeying him the way he so easily disobeyed Hux. Hux cannot invade his thoughts, deprive him of his senses, beat him, though. Hux can only offer him a light scolding, or maybe, perhaps, the cold shoulder if he were truly irritated with him. Why did Kylo care, then, if Hux found out about the outing? Hux may have elected himself the leader of their little group, but that does not mean he holds all the power. It was seeing Hux and Vierri return yesterday with their tails between their legs that Kylo decided he would only partially agree to Hux’s commands. There were to be no deaths. Kylo could work with that; he could continue to search for evidence his own way so long as he remembered to keep a close eye on Vierri and Hux to keep them safe – and kill no one in the process. Following Hux’s commands to the letter would only hinder their progress. He didn’t need Hux and Vierri to slow him down. Kylo remembers the evidence he’d gathered the night before, and he quickens his pace to finish his shower. He wanted to at least get a head start on reviewing some of the files before Vierri and Hux found their way back.

When he leaves the refresher, Kylo finds a fresh outfit folded neatly in place of the haphazard pile he’d left his last outfit in. He mumbles incoherently to himself about how he’d much rather have his robes back, but he still dresses in the black shirt and gray pants. Luckily, they fit nicely this time, and he even tucks his shirt in. Hux would approve, he thinks, before he snatches up the holopad and the external and lounges across the couch. Kylo toys with the external as it powers up. He thinks again of sending his thoughts to Vierri just to see how long he’s got privacy for, but he thinks better of it when he remembers what little the effort brought him. Kylo signs in, this time, and slots the external into its port.

The first file on the list is a text file that, upon further inspection, turns out to be the message about Aothea he had read the night before. His finger hovers over the ‘delete’ button until he thinks better of it. Adanelie would advise him to save it, just in case. Kylo can almost hear that stupid Eoviian accent of his uttering, “Ye ne’er ken, Master. Could prove useful, best no delete it just yet.” Missing that bastard and his obnoxiously endearing vocabulary, he moves on to the next file; another communication file, but this time, the recipient is an engineer by the name of Mathieu Bellamont. Brendol had inquired about the journey itself and whether Bellamont had made sure that the shuttle provided be made especially comfortable. Bellamont had replied in a way that sounded like a polite little ‘fuck you, you’re not my supervisor’.

And then comes a slew of communications that mention Hux by name, but they hold nothing nefarious in nature. After all, they are all sent _to _one General Vinh L. Hux. Brendol Hux appears, in these communications, to be the rather attentive father, speaking regularly to his son on a near-daily basis. Kylo still follows the advice he had imagined Adanelie giving him and reads through each thoroughly. There’s one he considers for a time, though. Brendol had asked what his son had planned for his birthday. Hux stated that he meant to work, there was too much to be done for it to go ignored. Kylo had thought that to be rather boring, but as he scrolled through another message about a trip to Coradonna, Kylo recalled that’s likely what he had done on his own birthday, though it’s not that he really remembered when that had been. The Knights no longer observed their birthdays. The Supreme Leader had considered them frivolous celebrations that followed no real accomplishment. 

That thought, though, disappears before he can mourn the loss of sweet cakes and the ridiculous presents Ben had received a lifetime ago. He focuses on the still, blue figure of Brendol Hux standing before him, a recorded message waiting to be played. Kylo had noticed this among the officers on the _ Finalizer_: they record everything. It was protocol, he knows. A means to protect the officer just in case the message would be doctored by another. Even if the original message itself is damning. Kylo prays that he is so lucky. 

_ Admiral Brooks, _ Brendol Hux’s robotic voice says, trying almost too hard to sound neutral. _ I trust you know of the men accompanying Vinh on his trip. The engineers… _ Brendol trails off and peers to the side. _ And the others. There is one name that caught my attention. _ Brendol pauses so long, Kylo taps the holopad to ensure it hadn’t ended. _ Yenda Cosvic. He has assured me he is willing to guarantee my son’s return trip goes, ah… well. My son, as you may know, has moved up his meeting with the Aothean Officials. Report back to me once you’ve spoken to Cosvic. Tell me if you find him suitable for the job at hand. _

Kylo frowns down at the blue figure of Brendol Hux, who is stock-still and appears to be frowning right back up at him. “That isn’t evidence, Hux,” Kylo mutters and flicks him. The holograph shutters, but Brendol Hux goes unchanged. Circumstantial evidence, that message. But it must mean something that Brendol mentioned the return trip specifically. He didn’t speak of the trip to Aothea. Kylo checks the file’s data. It had been made a month ago, a week before the Supreme Leader had volunteered Kylo to play bodyguard for the General and decided the mission would be quite a nice learning experience for Vierri. What a learning experience it has been thus far, Kylo thinks with a grunt. 

Admiral Brooks is a squat man, balding and pale in a way that made him think of a snowman. His dark eyes were akin enough to buttons that they only lent more evidence towards Kylo’s little comparison. But he looks rather familiar. Maybe he had seen Brooks’ on the _ Finalizer_.

_ General Hux, Engineer Cosvic has ensured that the shuttle is… fit for departure from Aothea. I am unsure, however, if you had received my last message, so I find it prudent to repeat myself: I do not believe we should go on with it. Kylo Ren was sent along, as was the Supreme Leader’s ward, a girl of fourteen. Please, General. There are other ways to… to go about this. I await your answer. Cosvic is willing to fix any issue that may have been caused -- inadvertently -- if you change your mind. _

Kylo replays the message again, and then once more. There are other ways to go about this. He’s not so sure how well this would hold up in a court of law – not that the Supreme Leader would let it go much further than the holochamber. The Supreme Leader often likes to play Judge, Jury, and Executioner and Kylo can only imagine that when it comes to an attempt on the lives of his ward, apprentice, and General, the guilty party would not be given the sweet mercy of a court martialing. Kylo anticipates he will be the one given the order to free Brooks’ wretched head from his miserable shoulders; Brendol Hux will likely be the Supreme Leader’s, or, poetically, Hux himself. 

Just before he’s able to open the next file, the door slides open and Vierri and Hux walk in. Vierri is talking rather animatedly about … well, something and Hux is nodding politely and sipping from a mug of caf he’s holding. There’s a cup in his other hand, one he has to keep moving to keep Vierri from knocking into it. Vierri stops long enough to take a breath and find Kylo’s eyes, and she smiles pleasantly, almost too enthusiastically.

“Master Ren!” She bounds from Hux’s side to Kylo’s and tucks herself there. Kylo has never been one for hugs and he stiffens at the contact, at first, but when she makes no effort to move away, he lets himself relax.

“How much caf has she had?” Kylo says, lips upturning slightly in amusement.

“Enough, at least, to keep her going for a few days,” Hux muses with a light smile. Hux lifts his mug to his lips and offers up the other to Kylo. “This is for you. Neither of us knows how you take your caf, but we thought you’d like at least something.” 

Kylo nods his thanks, but in truth, he had never acquired a taste for caf. He sips it just to appease his companions, but all the while, he’s thinking about how similar it tastes to boiled dirt. 

“How long have you been awake?” Vierri asks, finally pulling away. Kylo lets out a sharp breath he hadn’t realized he’d held in her proximity. 

“Long enough to shower,” he replies. “And go through some files.”

Hux looks at him inquisitively and asks, “What files?” Delicately, politely, Hux sits on Vierri’s opposite side. The couch just barely enough room for the three of them to sit, but that does not mean it is a comfortable fit.

“Nothing, really. It’s what you said.” Kylo taps on one of the default files Hux had examined and shows him the screen. “I figured something may have changed, but…”

Hux’s nose scrunches. “You certainly don’t use holopads that much, now, do you?” 

Kylo frowns. “I don’t see why that matters, Hux.”

“It does,” Hux replies. Feedback: does not. “You have nothing in your cloud data, so it’s fitting that you only get the local files.” 

Kylo opens his mouth to reply, but Hux interrupts him, leaning forward and eyes narrowing at the holopad. “What’s that?”

“Hm?”

Hux reaches across Kylo. He smells of the same nothing-shampoo and body wash. Kylo hadn’t noticed another towel in the refresher, but he must have showered before they’d gone to the wardroom; the scent is too fresh to be lingering from two days prior. “Where’d you get this?” Hux asks, a finger tapping the external. He leans back, and Kylo takes in Hux’s new (but not new to him) expression: one eyebrow arched and the corners of his lips downturned ever so slightly.

“It was with the holopad.” Kylo unplugs the device from the holopad and offers it out to Hux, who takes it gingerly.

“Normally,” Hux trails off, turning the external in his hand. It’s just a small piece of metal, barely occupying half of the palm and black as night. Slender fingers cover it slowly, then they move the piece upwards until Hux can twirl it in them. Hux clears his throat and starts again: “Normally, you have to request these.”

Hux turns back to Kylo. There’s skepticism in those eyes. They’re green, he realizes now. Kylo had thought them blue, even a few days ago as he examined them for signs of a concussion. Perhaps he just hadn’t looked hard enough. “Are you sure it was just… left in here, Ren?”

“That’s where I found it.” Kylo stares into the green eyes and waits. Hux’s feedback inclines him to not put faith in Kylo’s word, but… It’s just an external, he finally decides and hands it back to Kylo. Kylo releases a short breath.

“Well, an external could be useful,” Hux says.

Then Hux sits up a little straighter, eying Kylo purposefully. “I was thinking about your… theory, Ren. About my father.”

“And?” Kylo gulps down the rest of the caf and regrets the heat burning down his throat. 

“Your theory may have more merit to it than I initially believed,” Hux admits and takes a long drink of the caf. His feedback reveals that he’s burnt his tongue; further delving reveals that he’s worried, in part, that his comment may boost Kylo’s ego.

Kylo can’t help but let a slow smile settle across his features. “So, now you think I’m right? What changed your mind?”

Hux glowers at him, then lowers his gaze to the couch cushion. He pulls a few pieces of fuzz from it, then smooths it down with his fingertips. “I never said I thought you were right, Ren. Don’t get that twisted.” Vierri nudges him urgently. Hux sighs. “But my father may not be the best of men.”

“We know that.” Kylo looks pointedly at Hux’s wrist. The bruise almost covers his whole wrist, deep purple in the center and a dark blue on the edges. Hux pulls down his sleeve and shoots Kylo a glare. Kylo inhales sharply when Vierri’s elbow hits a bruise. _ Pain into power_. _ Nothing to use power on. Pain into pain. _Hux looks pleased but tries to give Vierri a warning look, for Kylo’s benefit. She mutters an apology and slips from between the two of them and onto Kylo’s cot. Hux brings his knees up and tucks them neatly under himself. Even after a near-death experience, Hux is all very proper about everything, isn’t he? Proper, save for a lick of orange hair that keeps falling into his face. Hux reaches up to rake it back into place.

“He isn’t a good man,” Hux says again. “Power is his main motivator, but that’s true for every officer in the First Order.”

“Not Terrin,” Vierri interjects, brows furrowed and frowning faintly. Kylo gives her a look, and her expression softens as she clarifies, “General Hux’s envoy.”

“Terrin wants power for _me_,” Hux says plainly, but with the hints of fondness. His nose crinkles when he smiles like it’s something he shouldn't be doing. “Not for himself. He’s a rare man, Terrin.” Feedback from Hux tells him he misses his envoy. Perhaps he’s just missing routine, certainty, and Terrin plays a hearty a role in that. That doesn’t mean Kylo isn’t curious if it’s more than just that he’s missing. 

“As I was saying, my father values power over all aspects of his life. Power comes before blood, that's for sure. He cut ties with his parents before I had cut my first tooth, then after my mother…” Hux swallows thickly, clears his throat. Feedback: painful memory, backtrack, try again. “After my mother, he cut ties with everyone. Even I was held at a distance, and I was four years old. And then…” Hux’s voice trails off again, a slight crack in its normally cool and stern tone.

“What did he do?” Kylo asks though he knows that answer already. He can see it, the memory. Hux had to have been no more than five, a scrawny thing with an unruly mess of ginger hair that was curly. A hand shot before his eyes, and then it was like looking through a warped glass: a Twi’lek woman with her mouth open in a scream, and a man that must have been a younger Brendol Hux; Kylo’s fingertips tingle, numb, and he pulls further.

Hux shakes his head and picks at the cup in his hand. Strips of plastic fall into his lap as he does so. “Nothing,” Hux lies. He’s chewing on the inside of his cheek. Kylo does not search for his feedback, for he does not need it. 

Kylo nods. “Nothing is enough for you to believe me.” Hux doesn’t look at him and simply agrees under his breath. Pity is an ugly emotion, and surely Hux would not ask for it, but Kylo cannot stop himself from feeling sorry for Hux even just for a moment.

“Fair enough.” Kylo sits up and hands off the holopad. “Now that you have officially recognized that your father is a traitorous dick, can we get on with planning how to leave this place?”

And they did, once Hux had given him a brief talking to about not saying things like that - cursing appears to be a big no-no in Hux’s book - and how the Supreme Leader would be upset if he heard her saying something like that. Kylo hadn’t argued, despite knowing otherwise. The Supreme Leader knew Kylo and the Knights had taught her many curse words; if he didn’t have to hear them, The Supreme Leader did not care. 

Kylo’s thoughts turn to Vierri. He remembers the day they had met, when the Supreme Leader had taken him, Jera, and Titus along to the slave markets of Dreyvan II. They hadn’t been told the purpose of their visit, but the Supreme Leader had led them through the crowds of merchants shouting to get their attention, peddling silks and Twi’leks as if the two were interchangeable. They stopped in front of a man in a black uniform, and the Supreme Leader spoke to the man in a hushed tone, and there she was. She had just turned four, they were told, and had chosen her own name. “Vierri,” he remembers the way the Supreme Leader said it, fragile like the girl it belonged to. Her green eyes were wide with fear when the Supreme Leader had led her away from the man, and though she clung to the Supreme Leader’s robes desperately, she kept looking over her shoulder urgently, wondering how long it would be until he would drag her back home. The Supreme Leader promptly told her her home was with them now, and she was to never think about the market ever again. 

“Ren?” Kylo gives him a curious look, and Hux continues, “You stopped talking midsentence.” 

“I’m tired,” Kylo replies.

“You haven’t eaten, either.” 

Kylo frowns. Hux’s voice is soft, kind, like the tone he reserves for Vierri and her alone. He’s condescending to him, and Kylo does not care for it. 

“I’m not a child, Hux,” he replies. “I’m fine.” 

Vierri leans closer to Kylo and places a gentle hand on his arm. She’s trying to soothe his anger, something she no doubt picked up from Helisma. The knight was good at keeping him in check, often chiding him for trying to use his stronger feelings when there was no need to. “He’s trying to help you, Master Ren. You haven’t eaten since we arrived, have you?” When he doesn’t answer, she continues: “Why don’t you come to the wardroom with us?”

Kylo slips the holopad from Hux’s hands and the pleasant white font tells him it’s 1800 hours. Dinnertime. The screen darks. “I’m not hungry. Not… Not hungry enough, at least.” He looks to Hux. “Would you bring something back for me? Please?” 

Hux’s expression is soft – again, a look he reserves for the Supreme Leader’s ward. He nods, though. “I don’t see why not. Despite it being against protocol.” Kylo snorts. “It really would be much easier on us all if you simply came with, Ren.” Hux stands up and flattens his shirt. 

Kylo lifts his shoulder. “Didn’t sleep well last night. I want to plan more for tomorrow.” 

Hux rolls his eyes and he’s halfway to the door before he says, “Get some rest. I’d like to be off this ship by tomorrow, Ren.”

Vierri lifts a blanket from the cot on the floor and drapes it over Kylo’s shoulders. It’s warm but thin, though Kylo is much too tired to care either way. “Do you want me to wake you when we return?” she asks. 

Kylo nods, but his eyes have already slid shut. Delicately, Vierri presses a kiss to his head and pads off. Kylo drifts quickly to sleep as the door hisses shut behind them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> no, this chapter isn't super long. but i like it.


	9. ?????

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ...

vinh's lungs are burning and his body is leaden and yet a feather 

his heart and head are pounding and the only other sound is a soft gasp (his) and each one is short, shorter, shortest 

nails digging into his throat 

his nails digging into flesh

crying begging pleading pathetically gasping 

...

....

and then

a flash of red light, the grip falls away, his lungs still _burning_ but cool fresh icy air fills them too 

the touch that comes is soft and kind and delicate

that touch begs him to _rest now_

and he does. 


	10. solitude, the consequence of justice

To most, waking in a bacta tank is a warm and pleasant feeling, one often being compared to having dozed off in a warm bath. There are many people Hux knows personally that regard it so highly, its comfort and convenient nature, that it proves constantly to be the procedure of choice. It comes in salves, a tank, and the last he heard, they were attempting to turn it into a spray for minor scrapes. When he awoke in the substance, though, the sensation made him abandon all rational thought: screaming, he believed that a rancor had swallowed him whole. Eventually, his logical mind rebelled against the irrational, and then did he recognize the familiar scene of the examination room. 

Gabaldon was there with Vierri, both clad in sleepers and similar expressions of worry, then relief as they both unhooked him from the machine. They then lead him on through to the showers to scrub off the sticky feeling that churned his stomach. Gabaldon remarked as he helped him into the warm water how it isn’t uncommon to wake up screaming. “In fact, it’s perfectly natural, General. It’s a strange experience, indeed, so don’t worry.” 

“I’m not,” Hux croaks. Croaks? “What’s wrong with my voice?” Gabaldon seems to not have heard the inquiry and hands him a washcloth, gray and rough, and shuts the door. The steam builds around him, and in the heat of the shower, he finds comfort. 

The only good thing to have come from his time in the bacta tank is that each bruise, each scrape that had come from the crash has vanished almost completely. There is still pale pink, angry skin left behind to signify any of the injuries had existed at all. He’s still at a loss, though, about his throat. Had it been the screaming? Surely, he hadn’t screamed so loudly or so long for it to become raw. Hux decides that he will present his query again to Gabaldon, or even Vierri. One of them will - must - give him the answer. 

It’s Vierri’s turn, however, to question him. “Are you quite all right, General?” Her voice carries a mother’s worry. It’s strange and he attributes that partially to not having heard so much as a word from her. There’s a heaviness to it, though; not just worry, but fear. Of what? That is another inquiry he must make; perhaps a list is in order. What happened to his throat; what is she afraid of; and where the fuck is Ren? He has heard nothing of him from either of his guardians. There is some reason to believe that Ren is responsible for his most recent trip to medbay and therefore an explanation for his disappearance. Father will have his hide, or perhaps they’re sharing a drink. 

The washcloth has been useful in its endeavor, scrubbing the skin raw until it’s an angry shade of pink. Only when drawing the fabric across the skin begins to hurt does Hux decide that yes, that should be good enough, and he turns the water off. Steam billows out of the shower door once he opens it, and from it both Vierri and Gabaldon reemerge, eyes closed respectfully.

“Have you got a towel?” Hux recoils at the roughness in his voice. 

Gabaldon produces a gray towel, just like the washcloth he’d provided for the shower. It was softer to his surprise and delight and much more like the ones aboard the _Finalizer_. It is a newer vessel, though, and Quartermaster Wran spares no expense when it comes to comfort. Initially, he and the old quartermaster had butt heads on it and his other impractical uses of the First Order’s credits. They compromised on such towels only going to high-ranking officers after a rather heated debate.

The towel, plush and comforting, is wrapped around him and Hux gives guardians the okay to open their eyes. Only Gabaldon is able to meet his eyes with a gentle smile as if he is offering comfort to a small child and not a General. 

“Less sticky, I hope?” Gabaldon prompts. His sleepers are gray - like the towel - and disheveled with stains likely from the bacta fluid. Vierri appears to be in the same shirt from before, but upon closer inspection, Hux realizes it’s a few sizes too large for her. He doesn’t recall anyone delivering a fresh batch of clothing to them before they’d gone to bed. Then again, he doesn’t recall at all why he’s here. Only a dream of uncertainty, one he cannot take as truth. 

Vierri worries at her hair, taking it down from a bun shaken loose and brushing her fingers through it. Her fingers snag occasionally and her pale face warps in pain. Then her auburn hair reenters its tie, neater this time with the occasional wisp to frame her jaw. 

As he gently pats himself dry, Hux enquires first about a change of clothes. Gabaldon motions towards a wall. Hux has to squint to find the neat stack of sleepers and underthings, all medbay white. The shawl is missing from the pile. His lips form a despondent frown and a sense of longing washes over him. Ren has it, most likely, wherever he is.

Finally, dry and dressed, Gabaldon leads them through medbay again. Vierri holds onto his arm to keep him steady. He had insisted multiple times before leaving the showers that it was unnecessary, but she wouldn’t hear it.

Like the rest of Medbay, the room he is led to is white, windowless, and clean. The bacta tank has been drained and powered off, but its wires are shut in the door. They remind Hux of Witch’s Fingers, a plant he’d seen on Coradonna once before. Aunt Alisa had told him Witch’s Fingers were useful in poisons when crushed into a fine powder, though aided an upset stomach if properly boiled. Two things he’d never gotten to test for himself, courtesy of the quarantine.

Just over a year ago, all communications from the planet had ceased and despite his level of authority, he was not authorized to know what happened. Only the Supreme Leader had that privilege and those who were privy to the private testing going on there; Hux was not one of them.

Gabaldon leaves them shortly after he takes vitals - all of which are normal, thank the Maker. Vierri has planted herself in the chair nearest the bed and a thin blanket she no doubt had stolen from the linen closet is slid over her lap. She looks comfortable, and yet not enough to achieve any form of rest. Anytime her eyes dare to flicker close, the open quickly, widely, and they dart around the ceiling tiles.

A distraction then. He’s rather good at supplying those. During his time in the 2088 Squadron, Hux would provide distractions for whoever was on nightshift. That often meant his own sleep being woefully short, but he would have rather been tired than dead.

“Vierri?”

“Hm?” Her gaze flickers to him and looking into those green eyes, he is reminded of himself. Her features of softer with her youth, but her cheekbones are angular, sharp.

There is a moment of silence as he debates which of the many questions to finally ask. Just before her eyes slid shut, heavy with exhaustion, he asks: “Where has Ren gone?”

“Speaking to the Supreme Leader,” she says, her exhaustion making her voice heavy, slurred. “I think.”

“You think?” Hux presses further.

“He said he was going to, but that was… hours ago. Where he has found himself now is beyond me.”

“How many hours?” When she does not answer, he asks again, louder. She starts and the blanket slips from her lap.

“Mind your voice,” she murmurs. “You’re still recovering.”

Her eyes travel to the clock on the wall. “It is 0800 hours now. Seven, then. Seven hours.”

Hux frowns. What in the Maker’s name could be taken seven bloody hours to discuss with the Supreme Leader?

Seeming to divine his thoughts, she shrugs. “I’m uncertain myself as to what they’re speaking of. I can only hope that he returns soon.”

The next silence that falls on them stretches long, cold, and Vierri is almost asleep when he asks another question. “How long have we been in here?”

“Seven hours,” she whispers dreamily. Hux feels a pang of guilt, an awful amount of cruelty for disallowing her the simple pleasure of sleep. But he needs answers and until Ren’s return, she is the only one to give them. “He left us here.”

“Why?”

She hesitates. “We ought to wait for him, General. I do not wish to be the bearer of bad tidings.”

The thin privacy curtain opens and in steps a stout man, short, with graying hair and bushy eyebrows; not at all the tall, muscular behemoth with dark hair Hux had wished to appear. There’s only a familiar air to the man, but it wasn’t welcome.

“General Hux,” the man says, and his accent makes it sound more akin to _Hooks_ than _Hux_. That wasn’t uncommon, per se, but still a nuisance. With a quick look at his uniform, Hux knows instantly he is a Captain. A Captain that cares little for his appearance, by the state of those eyebrows. Hux tries to not stare at them and instead, holds his rat-looking eyes.

Vierri is standing between this Captain and Hux. Firmly, she states, “The General needs his rest. Return later, please.”

“Well, I have been made aware of a situation in which General _Hooks_ was involved, as well as a --” The Captain looks down at his holopad -- “Master Kylo Ren.” He finds her eyes and smiles pleasantly, condescendingly. “I don’t believe you are _Master Kylo Ren_, are you?” 

“No, sir,” she replies and sinks backward. “But I—” The Captain raises his hand, and Vierri stops. 

“What’s your name?” Hux asks. He’s done his best to keep his expression blank, drawing in slow, steady breaths and now, he is using a careful tone. Level, uncaring. This tone often invoked a level of fear of those on the bridge: many that were on the receiving end of it would be reprimanded rather harshly. This time, it gains him a curious look from Vierri.

“I’m surprised you hadn’t recognized me, General _Hooks_.” His smile is not so kind when he meets Hux’s gaze. It’s the sort of look a beast gives its prey, predatory and all teeth. “I’m Captain Tynan. I had been a dear friend of your father’s.”

Hux knows the name, and now that the face goes with it, he remembers him quite vividly; Tynan had spent quite a bit of time with them on the _Invictus_ when Father grew weary of their estate. Tynan had a wife with moonbeam hair and dark skin, and freckles Hux had always thought belonged in the night sky. Her name was Anaïs, and she’d run away to join the Resistance some time ago. Hux had hated her for it, and perhaps he still does; he hates her for not poisoning the bloody bastard before she took off, however,

“Captain Tynan.” Hux nods slowly and clears his throat. Gabaldon would not approve of the volume he’s speaking, though a whisper is hardly enough to assert one’s authority with. “And your direct supervisor, is that still Admiral Everton?” 

The Captain’s smile falters. “It is, yes.”

Hux narrows his eyes, ignoring the slightest bit of satisfaction he feels at the wariness in Tynan’s voice. “Then I will be sure to speak to her before I leave. She ought to be made aware of your disgraceful conduct. Neglecting to identify yourself to your superior officer is a very serious offense, you’re aware?”

“General—”

“Not to mention,” Hux continues, “the disparaging way you’ve spoken to the Supreme Leader’s own charge. Honestly, Captain Tynan, it’s truly shameful.”

“The Supreme Leader’s…” Tynan looks to the holopad, mouth agape as he no doubt reads the name _Linn, Vierri _beneath his and Ren’s. He looks back up and those dead predatory eyes are wide, fearful. That look will never get old to Hux; seeing it in the eyes of an old foe will always fill him with utter joy. “Vierri Linn. I hadn’t known you were… close with the Supreme Leader, my dear girl. Please, accept my apology.” 

Vierri looks to Hux. If Hux were in her place, he would not. Tynan should suffer the consequences of such shameful behavior. Tynan is an embarrassment to every officer in the First Order - or perhaps Hux just has a bias against predators such as him.

“I do,” she says, readopting her firm tone from when Tynan had first entered the room. Though that was not the choice he would have gone with, he understands: Vierri is a kind girl with no room for hate or the desire for vengeance in her heart. “And,” she glances sideways at Hux, “I would recommend addressing me more generously in the future.” 

Captain Tynan bows his head. “Of course, dear girl. Of course.”

Hux asks stiffly, “Why are you here, Captain Tynan?”

“I’m here to discuss the –” 

Once more, the privacy curtain is pulled back, but Hux does not taste bitter disappointment. Rather, relief is wave over him, calm and cold, as Ren steps into the stark white room. He is quite the contrast in his dark rooms, helmet, the hood he’s got pulled up over it. Hux is surprised, pleasantly, at the sight of a General’s uniform tucked against his side.

“Master Ren,” Tynan breathes. “We’ve been waiting for you.”

Ren offers no acknowledgment of Tynan’s appearance. He slips past him and places the uniform at the edge of the bed.

“The _Finalizer_ will be here shortly. It would be best to ready for departure now.” Ren pauses as Hux looks up at him. There are a few chips in the silver paint, he notes, and a dent in the jaw. He wonders if Ren will be the one to fix it, or if that’s someone else’s duty. Suddenly, and rather violently, Hux realizes he knows very little of Ren’s daily life.

“How are you feeling?” The voice is so garbled, but the past few months have made it easier to decipher his tone: though it’s neutral, there’s an undeniable edge to it.

“Fine,” Hux mutters in reply.

“A moment, if you please.” Tynan gets closer, and Ren’s hand goes to rest on the hilt of his lightsaber. Normally, Hux would think to chastise him for his violent nature; in this case, he does not feel so obliged. Ren could do as he pleased to Tynan, for all Hux cares. 

Tynan eyes the lightsaber cautiously. “You cannot leave just yet, General. There’s still… There is still a matter that must be dealt with, and questions I need you to answer for me.”

Hux frowns. “I don’t care to dance around the problem, Tynan. Get on with it.”

Before Tynan has a chance to draw a breath in, Ren stiffly says, “Your father is dead.” The voice, though stiff and filtered, manages to portray compassion that Hux finds himself woefully unprepared to hear, kindness Ren of all people should not possess.

Nausea begins to gnaw away at what diminished strength he’d regained since waking. _Your father is dead_? “What do you mean?” Hux’s mouth is dry. “How -- how did it happen?”

The ringing in Hux’s ears makes Tynan’s words sound like they’re echoing. “You don’t recall?” 

“Leave us,” Ren snaps. Hux looks to the curtain as it slides shut again, the shadow behind it disappearing down the short corridor.

Ren starts to speak again, “Hux--” 

“I want you to leave.” Hux’s voice is brittle from both physical and emotional pain. There is a spot on the wall, dark, that has drawn his attention. He wonders if it’s been reported to Gabaldon or the health crew. He should tan someone’s hide for it. Surely it is unsafe, an ill omen, and --

Ren’s hand slackens but he does not release his grip. There’s a comfort that accompanies the contact, though after a moment, it only makes him feel worse; Ren must be guilty of something. Hux doesn’t need to look him in the eye to feel it. Though lately, he realizes, his _feelings_ have not guided him well.

“Are you sure?” 

“I don’t need --” his voice betrays him, cracks, and he feels naked in a crowded room. Vierri flinches at the sound, but Ren does not seem to react at all. He does not finish his sentence, though he offers a nod. 

Vierri insists she stay with him, but Ren moves away and obediently, she follows. With one final look of sympathy, Vierri pulls the curtain shut. 

For years, he had dreamed of receiving the news of his father’s. Hux had planned to have been aboard his own vessel, far from him, happy or relatively so; planned to spend the evening with a bottle of Coruscant Black in celebration. The bottle sits in his quarters, tucked in the nightstand and gathering dust as it waits for him to come home, come _celebrate_. Now, though, the news is not cause for celebration.

The weight of his limbs brings him back fully onto the bed, from which he never wants to move. His chest feels much too heavy and the rolling waves of nausea serve only to give him a reason to move onto his side. He will not accept Ren’s comfort or what is offered to him by Vierri; he is not sure he wants to be comforted, after all. Though, all to similarly, he wants to be held.

That is a yearning that has not once died down, yearning for such simple relief. When Father had told him of his mother’s death, it was a similar circumstance; he’d awoken from a bacta tank, doing his very best to make sense of a horrid nightmare. Father did not hold him then. He’d left him just the same, sitting outside and speaking to the medical personnel while his child tried to grasp reality. 

Heavy hands pull the paper-thin blanket closer, tighter and tighter once he decides the little comfort it offers will do. Any cry that dares well in the back of his throat is swallowed thickly down. Hux promises that each one will be released when he is truly alone, home, aboard the _Finalizer_. When those promises are deemed empty, he is given no choice but to clamp a hand hard over his mouth before the culprit - a low, painful sob - wracks his chest. He had promised himself this would have been a good thing, and he is weak and _foolish_ for letting it hurt. 

But Father is the only family he has. 

_Had_. Father _was_ the only family he _had_. 

_I will speak to Tynan on your behalf if you so wish._

Hux jolts to sit up, eyes darting around the room to find the man responsible. The curtain is still shut, and Ren has not magicked himself inside. Hux hurriedly wipes at his eyes, which he fixes into an angry glare.

“Get out of my head,” Hux says, clearing his throat harshly to disappear any sob that hoped for an escape.

“I think he sounds to be taking the news rather well.” Tynan’s voice sounds rather chipper for the _dear friend_ of a newly dead man. Ren begins to interject and, as the curtain opens, appears to be reaching out to stop the Captain in his tracks.

The confidence Tynan’s voice had conveyed leaves him swiftly, though, as he takes in Hux’s expression. He imagines his face is tear-streaked and red, an uncomfortable sight indeed. He fixes his face into an icy scowl, though he doubts it will prove so useful. “My apologies, General. For your loss above all else, and my lack of sympathy.” 

“Your sympathy is not something I want.”

Vierri slips just past Ren and past Tynan, taking her place at Hux’s side. She doesn’t seek to offer him any sort of doting, or pity; she simply stands at his side and glowers at Tynan. Ren, on the other hand, stands between Tynan and the curtain with his hand wrapped around the hilt of his lightsaber. Tynan must follow his gaze and he inhales sharply. 

“I _hardly_ think that to be necessary, Master Ren. General?” 

Hux ignores Tynan’s request for intervention; he will indulge Ren, for now, and up until the weapon is ignited. _Master_ Ren is protecting his General, which makes Tynan nervous. It will be a fun game, Hux thinks, to watch as Tynan squirms. “You said you wished to discuss my father’s death.” He focuses solely on Tynan, ignoring the gnawing sensation of the absurd sadness that fills him. 

_So you’re my General now?_ Ren’s tone is something kind, warm, and Hux wonders if that is some strange attempt to offer him some comfort. There is part of him that wants to relish in it, and the other that wants to remind himself that Ren wouldn’t purposefully do something _kind_ for him. 

Ren stiffens. Hux pretends to not notice him or the words he has whispered into his thoughts.

Tynan, oblivious to these interactions, looks down at his holopad and asks, “Were you present for his death, General?” The tone is level, but the eyes tell another story: unease, fear, feelings that Ren could no doubt feed off.

Hux’s knowledge of the Force is limited, but discussions with Hawke have provided him with a few simple facts. Dark Side users tend to feed off emotion, negative and positive alike. From his own observation, Hux would wager a hefty sum of credits that Ren prefers the negative feelings. Terror, disquiet, sorrow – these are the emotions Ren is good at inciting.

Hux looks from him to Ren. It doesn’t look like he is so much as breathing, statuesque and frightening. He finds himself frowning before he can press his lips into a firm, thin line. 

“I don’t know,” Hux confesses once Tynan has regained his attention. Tynan’s gaze, though, falls on Vierri. She recoils at first, but then she is standing straighter, purposeful and calm. Ren must have given her some of his courage, or wisdom. Or, more unlikely, she has found some for herself. 

“Were you present?” 

“I was,” she mutters. The confidence in her body language does not reach her tone.

“Do you recall seeing Master Ren present?” 

“I was not,” Ren answers from behind him. 

Tynan does nothing to fight the shiver, a common reaction to Ren’s presence, Ren’s filtered voice. He gives him nothing more than a sideways glance before Vierri is his focus once more. 

“Not until the end,” Vierri corrects. Then an apologetic look appears.

“Could you explain to me what happened, in your _own_ words?” He taps something on his screen. Recording, no doubt, for further analysis - evidence. 

Vierri reaches to Hux and he lets her; it’s nothing more than her hand lightly brushing his. “I woke to a peculiar sound,” she says. “Like the sound of… have you ever encountered a Jabora, Captain Tynan?” 

Tynan shakes his head, but his brow is raised, curious or annoyed. 

“They make this sound when they eat,” Vierri continues. “A sharp gasping, almost like wheezing.” 

“A choking sound?” Annoyed, certainly.

Vierri nods and her fingers hook into Hux’s. “Yes, a choking sound.” 

“And so, you investigated?”

She starts to reply, but he asks another question.

“What did you see when you investigated, Vierri?” 

Hux narrows his eyes.

“I found… General Hux in the cot beside the sofa, and--” 

“Is that all you saw?” 

“Tynan.” Hux and Ren both have donned a warning tone, though it’s Hux that finishes. “Let her speak.” 

“I saw someone on top of him. I’d thought… I’d thought it was Master Ren.” Hux searches her eyes, but they are vacant, glazed as she recalls the endeavor.

“Why would you have assumed that?”

Hux could name half a million reasons as to why she would make that assumption. Vierri simply shrugs. “It was the… the rational assumption, when… since Master Ren wasn’t on the couch.” 

“But it _wasn’t_ Master Ren that was on top of General Vinh Hux?” Vierri shakes her head. “Then who was it?”

This is what steals away the last of her confidence, and in the slightest whisper, she says, “General Brendol Hux. He… had his hands wrapped around… General Hux’s throat.” 

“Which General Hux?” 

“Which one do you think?” Ren asks dryly. Tynan tries to ignore him.

Vierri squeezes his hand again, harder this time. Though she would never win a strength competition, Hux winces still. “General _Vinh_ Hux.”

Tynan nods. “Do you need a moment to collect yourself, Vierri? That is something terrible to see, especially to someone you seem so attached to.” He motions vaguely to them, their hands clasped tightly together. In truth, Hux has never thought them close. When Ren isn’t around, she trails him tirelessly, from meeting to meeting. She rarely speaks but to ask if he needs more caff, where they are off to next. More than once he’s told her she’s alright and that she doesn’t need to follow him everywhere. It’s only now, stupid him, that he realizes she is so often seeking protection, _comfort_ from others, she may no longer know how to soothe herself in stressful situations. 

Vierri kneads her thumb into his knuckles, small circles to offer that comfort. He wishes she would take Ren’s hand instead, but she makes no effort to move his way. Maybe she thinks she’s soothing Hux as well and she hasn’t quite realized how uncomfortable he is with the contact. 

When she’s ready, she clears her throat and straightens herself once more. “He was sitting on his stomach and had both hands around his throat.” Hux finds himself reaching up with his free hand, grazing his fingertips along the tender skin of his neck. It would be much easier for it to be Ren’s doing. Ren is volatile and that is no secret. But Father? He’d never, ever been a good man, but Hux had never thought it would go that far. 

Not again.

“Can you tell me what Vinh Hux was doing?” 

“I think he was, um, clawing at his hands, trying to get him to let go?” 

“Did he succeed?” 

Vierri shakes her head, an auburn strand of hair coming loose from its tie. “No.” 

“And did you do anything to help him?” 

Vierri stills, hesitating, but she shakes her head again. “I froze.” 

“She’s a child. I wouldn’t have expected her to do more.” Hux looks to Ren, whose shoulders are tense, hard, ready to spring him into action from stiff inaction. He wonders what Ren thinks Tynan will do, save speaking critically to him or Vierri. Would he choke him? Throw him? Or would he simply bury his lightsaber to the hilt into the Captain's portly chest?

“I know, General. I’m simply asking to get, ah, the full story. My apologies if it sounds as though I am being harsh.” 

Hux grunts noncommittedly. “Don’t apologize to me.” 

“Master Ren came in, then,” Vierri continues quickly, eyes darting to Ren. “And he, um…”

“He what?” Tynan steps closer, eyes bright with both fear and curiosity. 

“I stabbed him,” Ren says, sternly, loudly. Hux fixes his gaze on him, then, and the lightsaber in his grasp. The flash of red from his dream - his memory - makes sense now. Hux feels his blood begin to heat and the nauseous feeling returns 

Tynan, stunned, turns to Ren and jumps at the closeness. He regains his composure quickly and, loudly, he begins, “You admit freely that you played a part in –”

“If you’ve seen the body, you would not question my part in his death.”

Gabaldon pulls the curtain back and when all eyes are on him, he shrinks back. There’s a comm. gripped tightly in his hand. “Captain Tynan?”

Tynan holds up a hand, gaze still fixed on Ren. “A moment, Officer. I need to finish this interrogation.”

“It’s rather important,” Gabaldon pleads. His lip is tugged back as he chews on it. “It’s--” 

“As is this, Gabaldon.” 

Quickly, nervously, Gabaldon says, “The Supreme Leader wishes to speak to you.” Then he exhales sharply and clears his throat. Slowly, he adds, “I don’t suggest you keep him waiting much longer. He is not pleased.” 

Tynan hesitates, but he finally looks to Gabaldon. “He… wishes to speak to me?” 

With a simple nod, Gabaldon exits, and Tynan follows swiftly after him. The curtain slides shut, and finally, Ren closes the distance between the three of them. Vierri still has her vice grip on his hand, though it loosens slightly. 

“General—” Ren starts, but Hux is quick to interrupt.

“You killed my father.” His voice is hardened, the emotions that have welled up inside of him a wall around him. 

Ren stills, then slowly to face him. That mask – Hux wants to rip it off his stupid head and scream at him, claw his eyes out for all the damned trouble he’s caused.

“Lie down.” Ren flexes his hand. He’s privy to Hux’s thoughts, and he does not doubt that Ren heard the most recent desire to inflict injury onto him. “You need to rest. You have been through an… ordeal.”

Vierri pets his hand gently, eyes filled with worry and condescension that enrages him. He doesn’t need looking after. He needs to go home. He needs a _drink_.

“Don’t be angry with him,” she mutters sweetly, soothingly. Hux breathes stiffly, the sterile-scented air burning his lungs. “He saved your life.”

“Vierri.” Ren touches her elbow. “Go fetch General Hux something to drink, please.”

His kindness is a front. Anxiety pits his stomach, and Hux finds it hard to move. He’s still so angry, weighted by that and the fear of being left alone with Ren again. The last time it was just them, Ren had found a grip on his throat. Hux isn’t sure he’ll survive it again. 

Vierri pulls the curtain closed behind her, and Ren sits on the edge of the bed. He reaches up, and Hux recoils. “I’m not going to hurt you, Hux.” It sounds as though he’s laughing that white noise-sounding laugh as he says it. Then he finishes the series of movements required to remove his helmet: hitting the releases on the underside of it and pulling it up, over his head. His forehead is dotted with sweat, black curls clinging to the pale skin. The scar tape on his temple is gone, a bloody scab in its place and the cut on his lip still visible. Ren sets the helmet gently at his side, then moves closer to Hux. His robes smell nice, clean, yet that shawl is still covered in smoke and metal. Their hands brush again. Hux is too afraid to move, and Ren studies his eyes. 

“You’re afraid.” 

“I’m not,” Hux says, lying to himself. 

Ren shakes his head. “Not of me. You’re afraid of being alone. With me, and… otherwise.” When Ren tips his head to the side, he squints his eyes, as if that will give him more of an insight into his thoughts. “You would rather have lived with a man who tried to kill you than be alone in the galaxy.”

“Fuck you.”

The voice sounds dreamy, unfocused despite the incessant attention he gives Hux. “I don’t understand you.” 

“Stop staring at me like that.”

Ren ignores his request. “I’m sorry for your loss, Hux. But I do not regret what I did. He would have done far worse had I not intervened. To you and Vierri.”

Ren’s gloves are warm when he takes hold of Hux’s hand again. Hux is hesitant, unsure of this much contact and from _Ren_ of all people, but he doesn’t find himself inclined to move away. 

It is what Ren asks him next that throws him off guard the most: “Do you forgive me?”

Hux nods, dazed, but before he can confirm it, Tynan reenters, pale. Ren doesn’t pull away or even acknowledge him. 

“Master Ren?” Tynan’s voice is weak, deflated. “I have, ah, decided that it is… within the First Order’s best interest to not prosecute this as a murder.” 

“Okay,” Ren says. He will not look Tynan’s way, will not even glance over his shoulder. His attention is solely on Hux, as unnerving as it may be. 

“And instead treat it as an - ahem - act of self-defense, and defense of those…” he trails off for a moment. The Supreme Leader must have threatened him, or anyone he holds dear. Hux doesn’t find himself so surprised; Ren is his apprentice, can do as he pleases. That’s been proven to him time and time again. Hux doesn’t mind it in this instance. “Defense of those who were unable to defend themselves.”

Vierri enters with a glass of water and frowns as she looks at the Captain. “Have you got more questions?” 

“No, no. I’m just leaving. Thank you kindly for your time.” Tynan offers a weak smile to Hux. “My condolences once more, General.” Tynan disappears slowly, fading from his view. Ren lets go of Hux’s hands and turns to Vierri. “When we return to the _Finalizer_, the Supreme Leader wishes for you to stay with Hux. Your lessons on diplomacy will continue there in a more controlled environment.” He’s quoting the Supreme Leader verbatim, Hux realizes.

“What about you?” Vierri frowns.

“A mission.” His voice does not portray whether he is pleased by this fact. Ever busy, same as always. But there is something there in his eyes that reveals slight agitation as he stares at her. He doesn’t give either them an explanation as to what that mission is - some important task in which Hux and Vierri were not to be privy to, it seems.

“So soon?” Hux is curious, naturally, and there is a note of that curiosity in his gravelly voice.

Ren shrugs and lifts the helmet over his head. “The Supreme Leader has been busy in our absence, General. Don’t be so shocked if he has found something for you to do beyond these diplomacy lessons.” 

“For now,” Ren says, ignoring Hux as he rolls his eyes. “Get some rest.” 


End file.
